Be My Escape
by Ella Twain
Summary: A Future Fic that takes place after S2. Wrote through the eyes of January Grant, a new Neptune High Student and Resident. But like anyone who moves to Neptune, there's more to her story. FINISHED on 03/01/08.
1. Prologue

Title: Be My Escape

Rating: PG-ish

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Rob Thomas, CW, and whoever else are in full rights of this amazing show. I do not own the quotes or songs. I do however own a few characters and a goldfish named House.

Summary: The story is in the future-almost 20 years-and takes place after the events of S2. The rest, well read and find out. Reviews are necessarry since this is my first attempt at VM fanfic.

**NEW YORK CITY**

_ "It is a pity we cannot escape life when we are young." Mark Twain._ This is the moment I would escape, the moment in which I would take my car, my possessions, and find eternal youth in the sky scrapers of New York. But, as I speak, I am placing the last of my possessions-my library of books- into five or six boxes to be sent across the country to the strange and dissatisfying land of California. Neptune, California- a town without a middle class. I am being ripped from my closest friends, Manhattan, and ferry boats to be forced into a society of OC-wanna-bes. I'd rather drink battery acid than move to the illustrious mansion awaiting us in the 09 district. I just don't understand why they can't let me stay here with Lalie and George. The Chandras love me! They wouldn't mind if I merely took up residence in their guest suite. Or the Connelly's, how about them? They have not only a high rise but a house on_the Island_. I'm sure they can spare the room. If I stayed I could continue going to St. Andrew's for the next three years and then move straight to NYU with Lalie and George- like we always planned. I'd study criminal justice and journalism, Lalie would find her place in fashion design at Parson's and George would delve into architecture at NYU Design School. We'd remain friends and buy a So Ho loft to live in; where we'd have kick ass parties, amazing stories, and change the world.

This was my argument to my mother and father. My mother is a professional housewife or domestic caregiver. She has my schedule, my two brothers' (Fritz and Brock) schedules, and her schedule--- synchronized in a militant fashion. I blame my grandfather, an admiral in the Navy for her obsessive tendencies and being completely anal when it comes to cleanliness. She's an expert at dinner parties, bake sales, and mothering. (Smothering in most cases…) She did not fall for _my expertly planned agenda _on how and why I should be able to retain residence in New York. I think she wants me to come only for the fact if I stayed here she'd have to reorganize all our schedules and she'd have to pick up Fritz and Brock from karate and violin lessons and miss her "martini dates."

My father is a lawyer. _There is no end to laws, and no end to the execution of them. Mark Twain _That perhaps describes my father the best- the executioner of laws. He's not a fancy litigator or defense attorney but he has been for several years now the District Attorney for the city of New York, which buys a certain cache'. He stays busy in courts and finds little spare time for us, his family. I once overheard my mother say, "We're his mistress, and the law his wife. We will always come second." And second we came when he was offered the position of a judge in Neptune, California. I wondered if he would miss the drama of the courtroom as only found by being a lawyer, but I think he's ready to slow down and position himself for a job in the Supreme Court. I appealed to my father in a strict facts based argument. I had counter-arguments prepared. I was ready. However, the judge complex set in early and he was neither willing nor able to hear my plea. His word was final- I would be going to Neptune with them.

Here I am packing boxes, while the movers come and take them away. I move a set of keys through my hand. I look at the beautiful silver _Tiffany'_s key ring inscribed with my name- _January Grant­- _attached to three keys. The first is to our new home. The second is to our old home. The third, a gift and bribe, is to my new car, a brand new Hummer. I look at the key ring and it gleams from the sun peaking through the blinds and I know if I had wanted to stay I could have---I had the ace in the hole, so to speak. I had the biggest secret that could clinch _my deal _but I couldn't do it. Not to them because till three years ago they were my parents- the mom and dad who raised and I'm sure loved me in their own way. I had made the decision to remain January Grant and never tell them what I knew- I was adopted. I wasn't their daughter. I belonged to someone else.

**NEPTUNE, CALIFORNIA**

Dante believed there were several circles of hell. Each circle fit the crime to which the offender had committed. Each punishment or each circle was more gruesome and unholy than the one before. The last circle was reserved for the traitors and betrayers and held unfathomable atrocities for those whom it claimed. As I stood in the attendance office of Neptune High School I wondered which crime have I committed that has landed me in this circle of hell- what have I done to deserve this? Why God why, I thought bitterly.

"Miss Grant, Vice Prinicipal Fennel will see you now." The old curmudgeon secretary informs me. She proves my theory that Neptune is the earthly visitation of Hades as her smile reminds me of the three-headed dog that guards the gates.

I and my messenger bag meander into the office which is unlike anything I had expected. My last VP was straight from Vice-Principals R-Us. He had the corny posters, cheesy awards, and enough platitudes to handle everything from syphilis to tardiness. He had a comb over that always reminded me of Donald Trump- almost as if they had gone to the same barber. He was nice. He was putty in my hands. Mr. Fennel's office had shelves of basketball trophies, fraternity memorabilia, and what had caught my attention the most: three amazing photographs of Mr. Fennell and a beautiful baby boy. The color and the lighting and angle of the photographs were a signature---they were Veronica M. photographs. I had been to her show in the gallery that Mrs. Chandra owned. I was captivated by the subjects and the view of the photographer. Mrs. Chandra told me Veronica M. had pioneered the art of photography called "stolen moments," a style that is highly reminiscent of private investigation photography. My favorite photograph in the collection was a photograph of grave with three people near it but not touching it. The three young people were spaced so meticulously you'd think they were placed, but the emotion in their faces told me otherwise. That photograph doesn't hang in a gallery anymore but in my new bedroom. The Chandras had given the photograph to me as a birthday present.

"Achem…"

_ Sit down_, my reflex told me. I had gazed long enough. I sat down in an overstuffed chair across the light wooden desk of the cougher, Vice-Principal Fennell. He was of medium height; 5'9 give or take an inch, dark colored skin, with neat and short braids. His glasses were reading glasses which meant he was 35, maybe 36 judging by the slight wrinkles on his forehead. His build suggested that he was a coach and judging by the trophies, he is a basketball coach. Statistics for African-American males in their mid-thirties with a family and working in the school system meant he probably grew-up in Neptune. He was at ease with his position and leaned back in his black leather swivel chair which tells me that _he is_ the "eyes and ears" of Neptune and very little gets past him. My file lay open on his desk and I imagine he thinks he knows quite a bit about me. Before he can cough again, I intend to set him straight.

"Vice Principal Fennell, let's not bother with the small talk or boring get to know you games. My name is January Grant and I was raised in New York City. I am a sophomore and if you've read my record you know I **am **an exceptional student. For the past ten years I have attended St. Andrews Prep where I was president of my class, Student Honor Leader, Governor's School Attendant in the field of journalism and involved in over ten clubs and organizations throughout the school year and summer. While you might assume because I have moved into what I am to understand is the elitist 09 district I will be a pain in your ass, let me assure you likewise. My father was the District Attorney of New York till he became a judge. His father was a senator and his step-mother a school principal. My paternal grandmother was a detective for the NYPD- the first woman detective- and my step-grandfather was editor of the New York Times. My mother is over-involved and will be at every function and PTA meeting. Her parents were both in the Navy, my grandfather an Admiral- till he retired three years ago. If you think there is a chance in hell they would let me get away with anything- one toe over the line- you'd be wrong. I plan to make it through the next three years by doing what I have to get by and then returning to New York as soon as I possibly can. Then I plan to study criminal justice and journalism and work myself into a position of head crime reporter for a big time newspaper or news program. And then maybe someday when I am recognized for all my hard work and dedication, I might give a shout out to this school as long as it doesn't get in the way of everything I have just stated."

Wallace Fennell could do nothing but grin. He'd had his share of new '09ers- most of whom partied too much, studied too little and still pulled the same crap they did when he went here. January Grant did NOT fit that mold. She pretty much broke the damn mold, as far as he could tell. He had been worried when he first read her transcript he would be dealing with the next Shelley Pomeroy. He could just see the anal tendencies and holier-than-thou attitude seeping through every activity listed on her transcripts. He looked again at the file and read between the lines; the lines said this girl wasn't on top because she was popular but because no one dared mess with her. Her appearance ratified that assumption. She was petite, with cropped blonde hair with dark brown highlights. She wore a blazer, a classic band tee shirt, with jeans that were worn and ratted. She carried with her a pink messenger bag with the large patch that read, "SAVE THE HUMANS" safety pinned on. Her monologue had shocked him at first but relaxed any worry that had crept in. Strangely, one more look at the girl and he was reminded of another girl; who carried the same attitude and bravado. He shook his head and took off his glasses, a clear sign, he was ready to deal. "All right, Miss Grant. Here's what I can offer you…" He placed his arms on the table and looked her directly in the eye- no mess'n with this one, "I'll let you by for the next three years. I'll let you choose your classes, your locker, and ignore your lack of school spirit or pride. All of this on one condition… you said you want to be a crime journalist. You want to work for the big time and here is where you can help Neptune and we can help you. Our school paper over the past 15 years has won national awards and accolades. Some of our pieces have even made it into major papers here in California like the L.A. Press. We need new blood on the paper. Our stories and our reporters are not up to the standard I've come to expect. You join the paper, and I will guarantee you the editor spot senior year and that the paper will help you into any school of your choice."

The school paper? I thought about it. I'd done a little homework and the VP wasn't lying- the paper had street cred, at least three former editors were working for ABC, two former writers were working for USA Today, and one writer had even managed a Pulitzer. All _I had to do_ was write the stories I had been writing and take the paper back to the top and in exchange I'd make it through here with recommendations and praise without having to actually be a part of this soap opera. Mr. Fennell caught the glimmer in my eye- the glimmer my father says is the "determined Grant gene"- and he held out his hand. I took mine and placed it in his and grasped it. "Deal."

"Have you seen her?"

"Nooooo…have you?"

"You're referring to the new girl right?"

"Who else, moron? She just moved down the street from us."

"What do you know about her?"

"Not much. Dad is a big shiny new judge. He was the D.A. for New York City. Mom is a housewife; _desperate_ most likely. Although, rumor has it she's New York royalty. Her uncle was mayor or governor. She also attended school with Tom Hanks' kids and went to summer camp with Hillfiger's sons. Oh and she drives a brand new HUMMER-blue."

"Did you stalk her?"

Allyson Bishop, rolled her eyes at Hannah Kane's comment as Hannah sat down at the lunch table. Already seated were Hannah's younger brother Scott, the twins Meredith and Michael Casablancas, and Gavin Vandergraff. These were the new '09ers. They were the richest and most envied kids at Neptune High. They could also be the cruelest when crossed. They had grown-up together in the same pampered and luxurious lifestyle their parents had afforded them. They were bred to be the best and nothing less. Their neighborhood was gated and any newcomer was subject to lengthy examination if they were to "really be" let in.

"Look that's her…"

All eyes focused on me as I walked to the tables, the brilliant carved and memorialized lunch tables given to the school to improve the overall esthetic. I searched for an empty one and sat down. I felt like a cow at a 4-H show being judged and oogled by judges with critical eyes. I did not care to be equated with meat anymore than I care to be one of the "cool kids" who lived in my "hood." Honestly, I don't care. I pulled out my lunch, homemade sushi and miso soup and my can of diet pop. I also pulled out my rugged copy of _The Portable Dorothy Parker_ and began to read. I defied them to bother me as I read and ate. I was the new girl but I am determined not to be the next victim of this high society b.s.

"_Guys rarely make passes at girls who wear glasses." _

I have to admit I was a little startled when I set my book down to find a boy sitting across from me; albeit a very cute boy who had just sat across from me. If I remember correctly, he is in my second period chemistry class and his name begins with an S. Stan. Saul. Scooter. Scott! That was it- Scott Kane. Kane as not in the Biblical kind but as in the heir to a multi-billion dollar fortune courtesy of his grandfather- software impresario Jake Kane. I knew more than that- Jake Kane was the father of Lilly Kane, the infamous murdered student of Neptune High. Lilly Kane, most likely Scott's deceased aunt, was brutally beaten to death by Aaron Echolls, a former-action movie star who was shot to death in his son's apartment. Lilly Kane had a brother, Duncan Kane. Duncan was the prodigal son and his homecoming story was plastered all over the news. One year after returning to his parents he inherited the Kane Company when his father and mother died in airplane crash. Duncan Kane and his wife, Nichole, a former Australian actress and their two children settled into the Kane Estate and reaped the benefits of Kennedy-esque family era. "I'm surprised Mr. Kane that you would bother yourself with the works of Dorothy Parker."

"So you know who I am?"

I placed my book down, downed my last tuna roll and looked directly at him. I had made myself clear to the VP and it was time to make myself clear to the "kids." "You are Scott Kane, son of Duncan and Nichole Kane. Your mother is Australian and your sister is your half-sister. Her name is Hannah and she is three years older than you. You are the grandson to Jake and Celeste Kane, who lost their daughter Lilly in a murder-scandal that took place right here at Neptune High. Your friends all live in the 09 district and have their daddies to thank for their BMWs, mansions, and general laziness. Well, except for the twins there- Casablacas owe their fortune to their mother who works for you father and was the developer of a new software security system that placed Kane Corporation back into the "big leagues." You are a jock, all-around American kid, and generally nice guy. All traits you probably inherited from your father, who is _your best friend._" I paused- mostly for dramatic effect and then to let the knowledge seep in. "Listen, I don't like to party. I prefer alternative and angry-girl rock to boy bands and pop sensations. I never drove a car till this year. I miss New York and yeah, for the most part, I think I am smarter and better than you and your friends because I am not a snob or bully. I don't want to sit at your table or become BFFs with all of you. I want to get through the next 3 years and return back to civilization in New York."

Scott's eyes fell a bit, and his first gleaming luster dimmed. I had been incredibly rude. My mother said my attitude was my fatal flaw. I preferred to think of it as my defense weapon against those who wanted me to be something I would never be. My defense weapon till I could obtain truth and control of a situation. I was determined not to become a member of society here because if I did- it meant that I was no longer me and I was letting go of what little I could still hold. I could dive into the long and bitter monologue about how I found out I was adopted and what the knowledge did to me; but what is the point? What I know is that I am adopted and my birth parents or mother or whoever went to extraordinary lengths to make sure I would never come looking. I became resolute that if they didn't want to know me – why would I ever want to know them? Scott nodded a simple nod of understanding and returned to his "crew." This would be the point where I was sorry but I wasn't. Not yet, not till fourth period and I realized that I would be in newspaper class with all of them and like it or not- I'd have to descend from my moral superiority and play nice.


	2. Chapter 1

**Title: Be My Escape**

**Chapter: One**

**Rating: PG-13**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Rob Thomas, CW, and whoever else are in full rights of this amazing show. I do not own the quotes or songs. I do however own a few characters and a goldfish named House.**

**Summary: The story is in the future-almost 20 years-and takes place after the events of S2. Thanks for all the reviews and feedback. I am trying to get this story out of my head and in doing so, I end up writing exactly what I am thinking- grammar and spelling be damned. I should also note for the most part this story will be told in first person through the eyes of January but in order to show where the characters are 20 years later I need to do some omniscient writing. This part is short, the next part won't be and will re-introduce our old friends. **

**Journalism 101**

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a new student to welcome…January Grant." Miss Blenda spoke cheerily. From what "little experience" I have had with the journalism profession, very feweditors or sponsors were allowed to be happy. The news was not always a happy thing. This was my first clue that Mr. Fennel had not been kidding when he mentioned the decline of the paper. I gave her a slightly annoyed look as I stood.

_Here we go_… the obligatory new student welcome speech. For most of my other classes, I had been curt and snarky and simply replied- Go Yankees! However, I was facing the same group I had dis'd and dismissed at lunch. Yeah, there where a few faces I hadn't seen but for the most part it seemed the 09ers loved journalism.

"_Hi. I'm January Grant and yes that is my real name. I am from New York, not that you couldn't tell by the accent and attitude. I have worked on the school paper and worked a summer job at the New York Times. **I am the crime beat.** I imagine that by the looks on some of your faces you don't particularly like me- and I don't particularly care. I am a firm believer in the equal opportunity offender program, so don't worry- if I haven't pissed you off yet, I will before the day is over. Go Yankees!"_

Okay, like I would really say that. Yes, I can be a _bit_ cruel- but that's where the "bit.." ends. I stood up and faced them all and replied, "Go Yankees." I then sat back down.

"Thank you Miss Grant, I think." Miss Blenda replied, unsure of what to make of me. Maybe _I should have_ gone with my first speech. "Since we are in the middle of the issue and assignments are already given why don't you use this opportunity to shadow some of our more experienced staffers? Any volunteers?"

Cue crickets. The 09ers crossed their arms, made rude comments, or just generally ignored Miss Blenda. Even Hannah Kane, the editor, mumbled something about too busy to baby-sit. This should have perturbed me more but three hands rose just as I was readying my reply.

"We'll help." Came a strong female voice from the back. I turned and looked at the corner. There sat three very different individuals.

The girl, belonging to the voice, was sitting at a Mac. She was tall, a little husky, with brown-olive skin. Her hair fell to her shoulders, in a wavy fashion. She wore large pink hoops, an eye-brow ring, a tee shirt that read, "You're overrated." and loose khaki pants. On her nose, lay think black-rimmed glasses.

The boy sitting next to her shifting bags and books to make room for me was even more different from his friend. He was slightly pale, thick black hair that was spiked, and definitely of Asian descent, to be as PC as I possibly can. He seemed to scream computer geek-Asian nerd stereotype. He wore a t-shirt with a computer formula written all over it and jeans and worn out tennis shoes. I could see three jump drives clipped to his front pocket of his jeans.

The last of three was moving to get another chair. He was medium height, good build, and dark blue eyes. (What can I say? I'm a sucker for the eyes.) His hair was blonde, neatly cut, and he worse a mischievous grin. He was a part of the t-shirt brigade, wearing a _RLV_ (The best band ever…) dark red shirt and jeans.

I grabbed my bag, gave Scott Kane a withering look, and sat down in the corner. "Big Yankees fans?" I asked, wondering why they volunteered.

"No, but I liked your shirt." The girl said with a smile. She pushed her hair behind her ears. "I'm Isa, as in Isabella. This is Alex, as in Alexander…" She pointed to the computer geek. "And this is Heathe, as in Heathcliffe." She laughed as she punched the blonde guy's arm. "Do people call you Jan or Jane?"

"Neither unless they want their ass kicked. But I'll go along with game, Jane is fine." I replied. No one ever shortened my name; I was serious about the butt-whooping. January was more than my name, it was the blood line to my parents. They didn't give me birth but they did give me a name and ever since I discovered the adoption, I wore the name proudly. So, I'm not sure why I let three people I didn't know begin calling me Jane other than deep down it would be nice to belong to group, a group that I could latch onto for the next 2 years 354 days 25 minutes and 32 seconds.

"Listen, here's how this newspaper works. The Brat Pack gets the choice front page fluff pieces and the sports section. Tamara Marley, 09er groupie extraordinaire gets the arts and drama pieces. This is fine with us. Isa takes care of the music. Alex is our layout man. And I am the resident photographer. When it's all said and done, only Ms. _Kane_, actually helps make the paper readable; excludin' the three of us." Heathe quipped as he pulled out his camera.

While I should have been paying attention to the underground organization of the paper, I was enthralled with Heathe's accent. He was not from California and not the surfer boy image I had imagined. His accent was laced with Southern Comfort. How did a guy from Dixie end up in the land of 90210? I forced myself to nod that I heard him and understood. There was a mild uncomfortable pause when I realized they were waiting for me to say something.

"Oh, you want to know about me?"

"That would be swell." Isa jabbed sarcastically.

"I'll state the obvious, first. From New York City where I attended St. Andrew's Prep. Dad is a judge, was the District Attorney. Mom is a housewife, the not so desperate kind. Two younger brothers- Fritz and Brock. The not so obvious: I work the crime beat. The harder the case, the more intrigued and intense I get. My grandmother was a reporter for the Times working the crime section. She was good and I have a chair waiting for me in the Times office and place ready for me to fill her shoes. I love alternative music, I drive a Hummer, and I will always wear my pink sneakers. Oh and one more thing, I live in the 09 district." Crap! Why did I add that last part? Did sound like I was bragging or did sound like I believed I was living in hell- which was I had meant. I looked at their faces and Alex sighed and gave a half-grin.

"You may live in the 09 code but I doubt you live _by it._ We are the lower middle class and we aspire to nothing more than to getting out of town and past this age old caste system. Me, I am the next Bill Gates. My ultimate goal is to turn Kane Software into parking garage."

I couldn't help but laugh and breathe a sigh of relief. Alex was right. This, where I was, was where I belonged. Time to change subjects- the whole "right/wrong side of the tracks" shtick was tired or uncomfortable- both, really.

"I can say this- you're not going to have trouble working crimes and mysteries here. Neptune draws the crazy people like a full moon. Last month, Lara Turnbow, a junior cheerleader at Neptune's rival school, Pan went missing. There was no note. No car. Nothing left behind, except the necklace Lara's mom gave her. Three days later, Michelle Overpere, a sophomore cheerleader here at Neptune also went missing. Again, no note, no car, nothing left except another piece of jewelry: her boyfriend's class ring. At first, they thought maybe it was just two runaways. The following week, Kami and Kara Peterson, twin sisters and also cheerleaders here at Neptune vanished. Same M.O. as the first two missing girls. One more girl, another cheerleader from Pan, has gone missing. Four girls gone, all cheerleaders and all leaving behind one piece of jewelry." Isa told the story in hushed tones as she played with the mouse on the computer screen which she never tore her eyes from.

"What have the police done?"

"Besides try'n to calm over-anxious parents and work in conjunction with Pan's department, they've found very little. My mom is tak'n it in the gut over this." Heathe answered.

"Your mom?"

"My mom's the local sheriff. No PD here, just sheriff's department. Last week, the C.B.I. finally stepped in but you know the statistics, I imagine."

"72 hours and no clue and possible kidnapping implied---all four are dead." I did know the statistics. My first piece for our paper, my first real take on writing about crime had been the Ellis Kidnappings. A whole family, just outside the city, had disappeared. Their oldest daughter went to St. Andrew's Academy, the elementary school of St. Andrew's Prep. I used old contacts my grandparents had and a few I had made thanks to my dad's position. I followed every lead the police had and I had been there the day they found the bodies of the family on the shores of Ellis Island. It had been 74 hours after their kidnapping. My dad found out I had been at the crime scene courtesy of my uncle, who worked for the NYPD and my police scanner, and flipped. He took my scanner away and hit my uncle in the jaw. It was the only time I had seen him angry or concerned about me. But I digress… I wrote the article up and continued it in installments as they prosecuted the man charged for the murder. He had been arrested driving their mini-van in New Jersey. It was a case of a car-jacking gone horribly wrong. The piece earned me my first journalism award and my summer job and the assurance I was going to be a crime reporter.

"Newspaper here covering any of it?"

"Not really. They don't like to get their hands dirty and I mean, talk to the hired help." Isa seethed. "Listen, Kami, Kara and Shell, while being cheerers of the jocks, live in the wrong zip code. Shell lives next to me and her parents are hysterical. Kami and Kara are Alex's cousins and no one here in this town with the dollars to fund the search parties is stepping up. Mr. Kane and Mrs. Casablancas have given to the cause but two out too many doesn't say much for Neptune."

"Okay, let's say Iwrite the case, I need sources."

"I'll get you an interview with my mom. Just be prepared for family dinner and for 100 questions about yourself." Heathe offered.

I smiled. "I'll take it. This town have any "dicks" in it working the case?"

"By "dicks" I assume you mean a P.I. and yeah. The best source would be Mars Investigations and Keith Mars runs that show."

_ Keith Mars?_ "Keith Mars? As in _the _Keith Mars? Author of _Murder in a Small Town, Not Pictured, _and _The Sacrificial Lamb_?"

Heathe looked at me like I was a crack addict or stalker. "Yeah, that's the one. If you read his books, you knew he was a P.I. here."

"I thought he would retire- you know, hang the hat, put out the cigar, and run off with his girl Friday."

All three of them laughed, as if I had actually said something funny. "We're sorry; it's just hard picturing Inga as a girl Friday. Inga was the receptionist at the Sheriff's department till Keith Mars swept her off her feet. She's just not exactly the girl Friday type, more like the Wednesday type." Heathe explained. "So I take it you're a fan of Keith's?"

Fan? _No._ Fanatic? _Quite possibly._ "Groupie would be more like it. I read _Murder in a Small Town _when I was seven. After that I went and Googled everything I could about the Lily Kane murder case. I was fascinated that he managed to solve the very case that put him out of office. I'm a sucker for the underdog."

"He's not quite the underdog he once was. He has another P.I. working for him, Eli Navarro. Eli or Weevil, was a part of the PCH Biker Gang."

"Yeah…I remember. The PCHwere first accused of involvement in the bus crash and later on in Sheriff Lamb's murder. Weevil Navarro was also accused of murdering Lily Kane. Keith Mars' daughter managed to give him an alibi and free him."

I noticed a twinge in Alex's face at the end of my statement. What would make a sweet-deep computer-geek irk at the mention of Keith Mars' daughter? From what I knew and had read, she was close friends with Lily Kane and dating Lily's brother Duncan- another suspect in the case. Later on, his daughter's name had been written on the hand of one of the men responsible for the Neptune High Bus Crash. Rumor also stated that she faced down the mastermind behind the Crash and the murder of the pervert-mayor. I had two choices I could go ahead and ask Alex what was with the twitch or wait it out…

The bell rung giving me my answer. I picked-up my bag and threw my notebook into it. I began to head out of class, when a hand grabbed my arm. Before I could jerk it away I looked up to see Scott Kane's hand.

"Listen, I overheard you talking about the Cheerleader Kidnappings. I also heard you're going to Mars Investigations for leads. Just remember journalism is not about taking sides, but presenting all sides of the truth." His voice was deep and charged.

I looked straight at him. What was with the Ethics 101? Why _did he care? _"Thank you Senator McCarthy, but I'll stick with the truth no matter what side it takes. Good night, and good luck." And with that I walked out the door to Coach Casablacas health class.


	3. Chapter 2

I am sorry this next part took so long. New job. Check out the Prologue for the disclaimer. Oh, I should inform all I began this story before watching ALL of S2 (Thank God for DVD's.) and so I did not know the name of Duncan's child. So assume the name is Lilly Hannah Kane and she's one of those cool kids who uses their middle name. I probably wouldn't want to be associated with my murdered-dead-aunt too. Other than that...reviews and critique help.

**Chapter 2**

**KANE HOUSEHOLD**

Hannah Kane sat at the large country-chic kitchen table with her Mac. She was 'heavily editing' Allyson's 'unbiased' piece on the new dress code rules for Neptune High. Ally was a good friend but her writing sucked. She gave-up on the edit job and decided to move the piece to the back of the paper. She flipped to the next article. She had dreaded reading this article. It was the article Vice-Principal Fennell had e-mailed her. The _award-winning_ article was written by the newest Navigator staff member and neighbor, January Grant. Hannah cringed. She didn't need to stalk the girl or attempt communication to know that January was not going to be her bosom buddy. January was rude and had already judged them all. Hannah begrudgingly began reading the article on the Ellis kidnappings. The kidnappings had made national news and Hannah knew the plot line. What amazed her was how the freshman reporter managed to out-scoop even the Times. She clicked out of the article before completely finishing it.

There was no denying January had talent or was good. The problem was January knew she was good and wouldn't settle for anything less than she was capable of- even if it meant totally screwing the rest of the staff. January would write what she wanted and Hannah, the SENIOR EDITOR, be damned. She took a sip of the ice tea, cooling the problems that had begun to run through her head when she would inform her friends she had to give the "new obnoxious kid" a star spot. Not only because Mr. Fennell had _suggested_ the idea but because Hannah wanted a paper that could get her recognition and into the schools. She wanted in Ivy League on her own terms and not the fact she was a very very rich little girl.

"Reading Allyson's article?"

Hannah looked at her younger half-brother Scott. She gave him a menacing glare. "Wait, how long did you two lovebirds date?"

"Shut-up." He mumbled, getting a glass of tea for himself. "We all make mistakes."

Hannah moved herself from her computer and laid a hand on her brother's back. "Some more than others, little brother."

"Ha. Ha." He responded sarcastically, walking to her computer. He immediately pulled up not only Allyson's article but January's. He began to read.

Hannah took a sip from her brother's glass and without looking up, "She's _good_, isn't she?" She groaned. "It's not just my imagination…is it?"

"No. She's better _than I _thought. Wow! She wrote this?" He asked, looking at Hannah.

"Yes, during her freshmen year of high school she wrote that piece. It also garnered her an internship at the New York Times."

"The _Times?_ You're kidding?"

"Oh God, I wish I was."

"Yeah, well be prepared, we could be the next subject of her award winning piece."

"What do you mean?" She looked at him, puzzled.

"She's apparently very familiar with our family…"

"Who isn't Scott? We're Kane's. Our family is like the West Coast Kennedy's according to most." She interrupted.

"She knows you're only my half-sister."

"That's not common knowledge."

"No it isn't. She's also shown an interest in the Cheerleader Kidnappings and overheard, she might be going to Mars Investigations to do research."

Hannah slid on a stool and finished off her brother's tea without thinking. "I _hate _her."

"Hate who?" The light hearted voice of Duncan Kane chipped-in as he walked in on his children.

"New girl. She's on the paper. She's a "crime reporter." " Scott answered for his sister, preventing her from saying something far worse.

"Is that all?" Duncan asked, knowing it had to be more than that.

"Vice Principal Fennell placed her on the paper- he feels she'll make it what it once was. She might, too." Hannah concurred. "However, she knows she's good and she doesn't care who she takes down to get her story from what I've read. She also has made it very clear she hates 09er's, California, and the human race."

Duncan looked at his daughter, who generally took after her mother and wanted to believe the best in others, was now struggling with a new girl. Oddly, the description brought to his mind the description of another girl. Another girl from another time that too would sacrifice anyone and anything for truth. He had been one of her sacrifices…more than once. Duncan's clear and bright eyes darkened and his voice caught. But that girl, she was long gone, wasn't she? "C'mon Hannah she's probably just nervous- new school and new place."

"Yeah sure, Dad. She's already latched onto the "Three" and writing about the Kidnappings. Oh, and then there's the part where she said and I quote, 'I think I am smarter and better than you and your friends because I am not a snob or bully…I want to get through the next 3 years and return back to civilization...blah blah blah' She pretty much thinks we're all of the devil." Scott quipped.

"It can't be that bad…"

"He's not lying. She has made it abundantly clear she thinks she's superior even though she moved into the 09 district herself." Hannah replied defending her brother.

"Just moved? Her father isn't the new judge, is he?"

Hannah nodded. "Her dad _is_ the new judge from New York. Why?"

Duncan gave a wry smile as Nichole walked into the kitchen. In her hands were bags of groceries and she had that look on her face. She gave a bright smile to her husband and kids before she spoke. _That's it Nichole, smile and then kill them, _Duncan thought wryly.

"We have dinner guests, tonight. I invited the new judge and his family over for dinner." She placed a loving arm on her husband's shoulder and looked at her kids. "Duncan, why don't you call Cindy and Richard and invite them?"

"And Logan?"

Duncan watched as his wife grimaced at the mention of his best friend's name. No, Nichole didn't like Logan Echolls. Very few people ever liked Logan and could tolerate him. However, Logan had returned to Neptune after a bitter divorce and on the trails of a huge blockbuster hit that would make him successful. And Logan hated being successful. He hated being liked.

"He's more than welcome to come too." She mumbled before escaping to the living room to handle preparations.

Duncan gave a sympathetic look to his children, who were confused and dismayed at the news. "It's one dinner. One evening and look on the bright side with Uncle Logan and Dick here, it will no doubt make for an interesting night. Maybe even newsworthy…." He gave a sly wink to his daughter, who just groaned.

TBC..._ Please R&R and I will try to write faster. _


	4. Chapter 3

_ Thanks for the reviews...they are my reason for even attempting to tell this story. So, once again I own nothing and my disclaimer may be read in the Prologue. Finally, here are some familiar faces and as time goes by even more of them. Oh and I promise from here on in to spell Wallace's last name right. Arrgg! Continue the reviews please. _

**MARS INVESTIGATIONS**

I checked the listing three times before I entered. _Mars Investigations_ was painted simply on the door with the all-seeing eye logo below it. I touched the logo, as if touching a good luck charm, before entering. I listened as the bell above me clanged and a door shut. I looked at the reception area and into the face of what had to be Weevil. Eli (a.ka. Weevil) Navarro was tall, muscular with tattoos splayed across his arms that were covered only somewhat by his navy polo shirt. He wore tan khakis much lighter than his dark skin. His shiny bald head and clean shaven face were off-setting the entire look. It was almost as if Mr. Clean had gone _bad_. He looked me over and by every look he was taking I'm thinking he was already underestimating me. I hate to be underestimated.

"Can _I _help you?" His accent poured.

"I don't know- can _you_? My name is January Grant, I work for the Neptune Navigator. I'm doing a piece on the "Cheerleader Kidnappings." Rumor has it--- that you and Mr. Mars are involved in the investigation."

"You're a high school reporter?" He all but laughed.

"No, I'm Lois Lane. Yes, I'm a high school newspaper reporter. Now about my question- are you or are you not involved with the case?"

He laughed a wicked laugh before sitting down behind the desk. He kicked his large black boots up and leaned back in his chair, reclining and placing his arms behind his head. He looked at me with an odd amusement. "I'm not sure if I like your tone. You know you get more flies with honey than crap."

"Well, if I were looking for flies then I would have gone to Mr. Vanlow's agency. What I am looking for is information on the case and I figured I'd start with the best."

"The best, eh?" He rubbed his jaw and then sat-up.

Maybe that whole flattery thing does work.

"Listen Miss…"

"January."

"Whatever. As of yesterday, Mars Investigations was black-listed from the Department and pursuing the case. Mr. Mars has chosen to use his talents elsewhere at this time. That is for the record."

I took a seat across from him. I pulled out my recorder, and repeated word for word what Weevil had said. If this was on the record, what would he say off of it? I made a grand show of turning the recorder off and then leaned back myself. "Alright, Mr. Navarro what can I get off the record?"

He grinned. I think if nothing else he was getting a kick out of the high school kid playing journalist. "Off the record, two days ago Kane Corporation through its two figureheads, Duncan Kane and Cindy Casablancas donated three mill as a reward for whoever found the missing girls or could lead the police to their kidnapper or… killer. The money came with a guarantee though- on the part of Sheriff Mitchell. She was told that our agency was to have NOTHING to do with the investigation or the money would vanish, too. All the leads we brought in and tracked were property of her Department. Most of the evidence they have is because of us." He paused and sat-up. He had my attention and he knew it. "For instance, the C.S.I. team in Neptune manages to muck-up every crime scene. They are the last ones to be called. So… Mr. Mars with _his connections_ called in the forensic team from San Diego as a special favor to look over the scenes and actually get real data. Their reports concluded that the kidnappings are related and not copycats or runaways. The team's report also found a similar chemical substance at the scene where the jewelry was found. They were identifying it."

"Were?"

"When the Department benched us; I called San Diego."

"You stopped their investigation?"

"No, just filtered and edited it. The real reports come to us. The reports that mean nothing go to Sheriff Mitchell and the Kane money."

_Wow, no bitterness here_, I thought as I heard Weevil speak. Most reporters would have gone and jumped onto the evidence found and tried for the reports San Diego was producing. I was more interested on why the resident hero of Neptune had been kicked-off the case. What did the Kane foundation…corporation…cult have against Mars?

"Off the record, why was there a stipulation on the money? I've read the books and stories, Keith Mars found Lily's killer, saved Cindy Casablancas from a rapist and murderer, and generally is beloved by this town. I would've thought the town would have wanted him on the case."

Weevil's nonchalant grin faded. His brows furrowed a sure sign that at this moment he was debating whether to tell me (total stranger girl) the real truth or let it be. I met his gaze. Eye contact was important in the issue of trust. I think Weevil needed to know he could trust me.

"Off the record…" His voice had grown softer and deeper. I had to lean in to actually hear him. "Duncan Kane, as I am sure you are aware, dated Keith's daughter Veronica. Veronica Mars was the _real_ beginning of the second investigation into the Lilly Kane murder. She followed her own leads and tips and _she managed_ to put the pieces together even before her dad. She didn't do this without scaring a few of the 09ers. She got into their business and she found dirt that they thought God couldn't uncover. It also didn't help matters when Veronica crossed territory lines and started dating 09er badass, Logan Echolls."

"Wait! Are you telling me that Logan Echolls, a.k.a. big time producer and ex-son-in-law to Mr. Spielberg, dated Keith's daughter?" My eyes almost popped out of my head. I was certain that either Neptune was connected to every scandal in the Western world or was a Hellmouth. There was no logical though process that could explain how connected this town was to the darkest cases and mysteries known to man.

Weevil rolled his eyes. Apparently, he didn't get along with the Producer. Shocker. Nevertheless, he took a moment and looked at a door which read KEITH MARS, PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR. Was Mr. Mars here? I didn't look away from Weevil, in fear he would stop his story.

"Veronica eventually left Logan for Duncan Kane, only for both of them to discover Duncan's ex Meg was pregnant with Duncan's baby. Duncan split not long after, on the run with baby in tow. Veronica ran back to Logan just in time to discover that Cassidy Casablancas, Dick's younger brother, had raped her, almost raped Cindy Mackenzie, killed loads of people, and was ultimately responsible for the Neptune High Bus Crash. Duncan and Mac… Cindy, that is, had no ill will towards Veronica. Both of them owed their lives to her."

"This doesn't make any sense." I replied shaking my head in disbelief. "If Mr. Kane and Mrs. Casblancas loved Veronica so much why would they go after her father?"

"Because my daughter left…"

My head whipped around and I stared into the eyes of Keith Mars. The pictures in the books bore little resemblance to the man before me. His eyes were darker, his wrinkles deeper, and his hair was graying and almost gone. He wore a simple understated suit which made him look less seedy and more like a public defender. His voice was like gravel. But, what caught my attention about the man I had admired for so long was his presence. Not many people have presence anymore, I heard my grandfather quip. That presence where when they walk into a room you know you are with someone very important in the grand scheme of life. That is _exactly _how I felt when he walked in. I wondered how long he had listened. I stood, approached him, and held out my hand. I was shocked momentarily when he returned the action by placing his hand in mine.

"Mr. Mars, I'm January Grant, I work for the Neptune Navigator."

"I heard."

I felt ashamed… though I'm not sure why. I had only asked questions and I had only got answers. No guns or firearms were involved in obtaining them. I glanced over his shoulder and my eyes caught once again a picture. It was a large black and white picture of a man on baseball field with a bat and glove in his hands walking towards the pitcher's mound. Two things I knew: the man was Keith Mars. The second was that this was another photograph by Veronica M.

"Your photograph is by Veronica M. Am I right?" _Smooth Jane,_ I thought- nice change of subject. _Get him off the fact for the past 15 minutes you have been discussing the details of his daughter's life._

"It is. How did you know?" Mr. Mars asked, puzzled I think by the randomness of the question.

"I have one of her photographs in my room. I saw her show at a gallery in New York. She has a distinct style of shooting."

"That she does…" He smirked. "Which photograph?"

"_Shot of Three."_

The smirk gave away to a cloud of seriousness and what I would guess to be pain. Why though? Why would a detective get upset over a photograph I had… oh wait. No way, it couldn't be that easy. Well, it could and I just happened to be the biggest moron on the planet! Veronica M. was Veronica Mars. It would explain why Mr. Fennel had several of her photographs and why Keith Mars did as well. It would explain why he would be upset at the mention of her name. Her name which… was… associated with a case with Duncan Kane and Cindy Casablancas. What was in the hellmouth was going on in Neptune?

"Mr. Mars…" I looked at my hero in the eye giving a sense I was being brave here although I am completely and totally terrified. "I am guessing that Veronica M. is your daughter; which means you have the sincere pleasure of knowing I idolize your entire family. I understand from your books that she was just as involved in two of the major cases you solved as yourself. What I don't understand, if I'm not being too forward, is why she is the reason you were taken off a case that has no leads and few clues? If she left Neptune, I assume it was to pursue her photography. Which I also assume is a good thing. She's world famous and her photographs kick ass. But what difference should it make to software tycoons and a California town?"

"You seem like a smart girl. When you figure it out, let me know." He replied bitterly, turning back to his office.

"MR. MARS!" I called; forming a haphazard plan as I spoke. "I have an interview with the Sheriff this week. I also have connections with the _New York Times_, the court system here, and if I call in the favor for killing the guy in Vegas, I have contacts in some of the top crime labs in the United States."

I got him with the "killing the guy in Vegas" as he turned around, leaned on the doorframe and began to smile. "Listen, Mr. Mars you are my hero. And for the chance to work with you and quote you in my next award-winning article I will keep you on this case…in this case, I mean. I'll get you whatever you need."

"It's Keith…" He paused. C'mon on man, give me an answer! "Since we'll be working together." He then crossed his arms and got serious. "But listen kid, I don't need you getting yourself in trouble or on the wrong side of this case. I've been there and I am too old to do that now. If you have a lead call Eli and take Backup."

"Back-up?" I asked and before I got an answer, a pitbull came barreling out of Keith's office towards my feet. I bent down and gave the dog a warm welcome. I looked at Keith. "You got it." I held out my hand again.

He shook it and thus began the start of our beautiful partnership, I thought. A partnership cut short by my vibrating pants. I glanced down at the phone--- HOME flashed on the caller ID. I was late. I left my card--- I've had business cards since I was four--- with Keith and ran out the door already thinking of my bi-line.

----------------------------------------------------------

**GRANT HOUSE- THE NEW ONE!**

I arrived home. No, not home…this mansion monstrosity was not my home. It was loud and extravagant and pretentious. I am none of these things. I mean, we had money in New York. I wasn't living in the "ghetto" or anything. I had friends at school that had famous parents. I was living in the upper class. In my defense, the money could have been old money but it wasn't. My parents, like theirs' before them, earned every cent and inch of respect.

_Respect_. That was something we had more than money. A Naval Princess marries a New York Prince and they have three…really two…heirs to the fortune. The Grant family was considered just, respectable, hard workers, and beloved by the city.

And then, cue sappy over-played-pop-music, we leave it all behind for California elegance and dramatics. We move to a town where I can guarantee respect pays for very little; even less than minimum wage. I'd give away the car and the mansion in the Hills for a shoebox in the City, But there was no use in wallowing. My parents do not allow wallowing. I have to make this work.

Speaking of parents… Mom was in the living room, moving more things around. We got more things since moving because we had places to put them. Empty spaces in Cali were like last year. Mom moved another vase before she turned to face me. Her eyes, a deep emerald, were open and expressive. "Where were you?"

I placed my bag at the front of the door in the cabinet my Mom had installed. That Navy thing could be a complete pain in the… yeah, you know where. Every thing and item has its place and when it's not there that is not good. I pushed my hair behind my ears. This is what my father calls my weak move. He knows the moment I do that, I am deciding between a truth and a lie. Fortunately, he's never shared this theory with Mom and I'm usually home free. I decided for the truth for once. "I was at MARS INVESTIGATIONS. I was offered a hot spot on the Navigator, the school pap' and I was catching some leads. I'm not late."

Mom crossed her arms and leaned back. This was her sign of what was she ever going to do with her daughter- her daughter that just didn't fit in to the family mold as she would like. My Mom is tall, with a curvy build but not fat, just athletic. She has dark wavy red hair off-set by her emerald eyes. Her complexion gave her away. She is Irish- full-blooded Irish. My grandparents both hailed from Ireland and had made America their home. My Mom was born and raised all over the world though. She was cultured, organized, and endearing. She loved me and my brothers but on any given day she preferred sporty Brock and artistic Fritz to the mess I was. She sighed. "Listen, we are having dinner tonight with a family. I need you dressed by Fourteen Hundred hours. And January I mean dressed nicely. Nothing that would embarrass me or your father."

Her tone was clear…I would be dressing from my closet. My closet is where I put all the clothes she bought me in attempt to make me over. Ugh. "Which family?"

"The Kanes." She replied, as if she had said the Cleavers.

Alright, it's certain…I am in hell. "I guess it would be too much to ask if I could NOT go?"

Her gaze caught mine. If anything, she knew my school habits. "On a scale of one to ten, just how badly did you piss off their kids?"

Pause. Let's see I insulted Scott at lunch and basically called him and his friends bullies and snobs. I then by accepting the VP's offer offended Hannah in jumping on her territory. Later in the day, I had mocked the entire 09er group when Coach Casablancas had insisted on me running laps because I was seen with Alex and Isa. "Eight and a half. Are the Casablacas coming?"

"Yes…" She hesitated.

"Ten."

"January…" She moaned.

"What? I was me. You couldn't actually believe I would get along with them?"

"No, I didn't. I just thought maybe you'd cut people here a little slack."

"Why?" I demanded.

"You're new. They don't know you. You could give them time to do that before pronouncing your damning judgment on them."

My Mom was right but she would never get that from me. "I could have. I could have let them judge me by your bank account, where I lived and who I hung out with, and what car I drove. I could buy into the superficial nature of their lives and give up reality. Or I could let them know I am who I am and I have goals and nothing gets in the way of my goals. No one and _judgments_ will tear me down. Judge not less you be judged; I just beat them to the point."

She walked over to me, placed a patented comforting hand on my shoulder and gently moved me forward to my bedroom. "January for your Dad's sake, just stay away from them tonight and wear the last outfit I bought you and after this, I promise, you'll always be busy with "homework."

I smiled as I went to my room. Sometimes we win battles and sometimes we win the whole freak'n war. I had won the war. As it looked, I was going to write my own ticket here and maybe make it back to New York alive and well.


	5. Chapter 4

_ Disclaimer Reminder: I do own nothing. Not Veronica, Logan, Duncan or even Backup. I don't own the songs or quotes. I'm far too poor. Alright, this part is like a Happy Meal, just to tide over till dinner comes. The surpise in this Meal is the answer to "What happened to Logan?" Oh yes, for those who are reading and care, I will answer one other question---Veronica Mars is NOT dead. I am not JK Rowling...or I hope she's like me and believes in letting main characters live. Although, Joss Whedon pulled it off- but it was Joss Whedon. Anyway, to all those reviewing THANKS! I need it and I am taking in all the critiques and trying to make this better...or at the very least readable. The next part coming soon!_

****

**SUITE AT NEPTUNE GRAND**

"You had to move here?"

"Yeah, wasn't my first choice either but I don't want to get attached or anything."

"Logan, this is the same room your dad was murdered in."

"See…feels like home."

"I don't understand why you don't stay with us. We have five or six guest rooms, I think."

"Duncan, sweet gullible Duncan, your wife thinks I'm a…"

Duncan Kane rose his hand and laughed as he interrupted Logan Echolls. "Logan I'm quite aware of what my wife thinks of you. But still…c'mon it could be fun."

"I'm sure. No, there's no place like the place where your dad was shot, you screwed you best friend's older step-mother, and oh…you watched your best friend's brother kill himself after confessing to raping your girlfriend." His voice dripped with irony and sarcasm. Logan threw himself on the couch in front of the large flat screen TV, still clutching his Jack and Coke.

Duncan, holding a neat Scotch, sat down next to him and reclined. "How's the divorce?"

Logan knocked back the rest of his drink before turning to Duncan. Leave to him to bring things to a point. "It's over. No kids. No alimony. And she gets everything. Oh…" He smirked. "Did I tell you her father sent me a bottle of wine and a condolence note along with the papers that he is backing out of my next film? Classy guy, that Steven."

"I don't feel sorry for you. You still have a multi-billion dollar production company built from scratch, two movie deals with two _other major directors_, your pick of any young starlet you want and best of all, you have dinner tonight with me, Dick, the families and new 09ers."

Logan rolled his eyes. "Duncan, no dinner."

"You have to come. Nichole hates you enough and if you back out of this invitation she'll send you by way of your father."

"Ouch…she really hates me that much?"

Duncan grew thoughtful for a moment. He shook his head. "No I think she hates what you represent or did. You represent my dead sister, my dead ex-girlfriend and Hannah's real mother, and the ex-boyfriend of the girl I once loved…" His voice ebbed out near the end.

"God, who didn't love her?"

"Dick." Duncan and Logan joined in together- setting them laughing. It was true. Veronica had gotten to a lot of guys' hearts. Dick Casblancas was not one of them. In college, freshmen year, she got him into more trouble than he had ever been in. He blamed the whole mess on her and didn't care if Logan was dating her or not--- she had to go down. Logan would have intervened but they were _off_ at that moment and left it to the temporary guy she was seeing. Dick would always hate her. For what she did to him and what she did to Duncan and Logan and he carried it around like that old condom in his wallet.

Duncan sighed. "I had Keith Mars pulled off the kidnappings."

Logan didn't flinch. He didn't even look at Duncan. "Why?"

"I blame him. I hate him. He's Keith Mars. Take your pick." His voice almost unaffected as Logan's.

"God… he _hated me_. He and your wife could form a club…"

"_Hated?_ As in past tense? When did he stop?_" _He gave Logan a curious grin.

Logan, in his over-used mocking tone, sat-up and grinned devilishly. "I believe in a better life Duncan. I believe that we can put past this hate and bitterness and strive towards a better tomorrow, a better Neptune. I have a dream…" He burst into laughing, falling back again on the couch. He was drunk.

"You're drunk."

"Like I said, this place _is_ home."

**TBC**


	6. Chapter 5

I _Disclaimer: Once and yet again, I own nothing and if I did I surely wouldn't be here writing fan fic...then again, I might very well be. _

_Author's Note: Thanks a million times over for reading and reviewing! This next part is a part of the Happy Meal ideal system (See Chp 4). I hadn't intended to write this but I couldn't ignore this conversation going on. Next---well, I am assuming Piz (Is that right?) will have a fatal downfall and I decided it would be he comes from a family of con artists and intended to go in the same business. Lastly, I love the show **BONES**. I mean it. I do. And that should explain the subtle-not-so-subtle shout out. Other than that---expect the next part to me much longer as it will be the long awaited Kane dinner scene. _

**MARS Household**

The sweet aroma of dinner, frozen lasagna, lingered in the air as Keith Mars stepped into his humble abode. He could've afforded a house, a nice house. A nice and normal house in the suburbs was what he could afford. Yet Keith Mars liked the feeling of his apartment. Too many years had been spent in this place learning he could be a single parent and still save the world. When he married Inga, she didn't mind the room or lack of it. She was humble and endearing as she had always been. It took some years but her disposition and faith in him endeared him to the point of love and a second marriage.

"How's dinner coming?"

"Fan-frak'n-tastic."

"Four years abroad in the best schools in England and France and that's the best you can offer?"

"What in cooking or language?"

"How about either?"

"How about you being happy that I am in town and am fixing you dinner in the stead of your wife?"

"I could be, but it's been a long day…" He finally set his brief case down at the door, his coat on the rack and his body into his recliner.

"Do tell."

"Got banned from the Kidnapping Case. Bailed out Weevil…_again_. And now, you'll get a kick out this, I am helping out a Neptune Navigator reporter with her story on the case." He beamed.

Veronica Mars placed the garlic bread in the oven and faced her father. She gave him an interested glare. In all these years, she hadn't really changed. On the outside, she was thinner and her hair was back to an original short look. It wasn't the mess and rebellion of high school, but chic and stylish. Her clothes were expensive but comfortable as she was dressed in khaki slacks and aqua button-up. Even in the "adult" clothes, she could barely pass for over 21. _Her own personal curse for years spent lying about her age_, she assumed. On the inside, Veronica was as she had ever been. Curious, guarded, feeling everything but letting nothing show and still, she had an insatiable hunger for truth. "Neptune Navigator reporter?"

"Yeah. She marched into the office, talked about _what a fan of your old man_ she was, talked about your photography, and then told me she'd offer whatever she could to the case in exchange for an interview."

"Isn't that sweet? My dad has a groupie."

Keith rolled his eyes. "You say groupie, I say devoted and intelligent young woman. She's smart." He said, more to himself than to Veronica. "She managed to, in a matter of minutes, place you as my daughter and world-renowned photographer." He paused and looked at her, his voice softened. "She owns one your photographs. _Shot of Three _is hanging on her bedroom wall."

"I sold that photograph to the owner of a gallery in New York. She said it was a present for her daughter's best friend. I'd never imagine it would end-up in Neptune."

"I don't think she did either. I ran a background check on her."

"And…"

"She's moved from New York. Her father was the D.A. and a current judge in the California system. Other than that, she plays out…" He paused. "Well, she plays out a lot like you. Too curious for her own good, her freshmen year she ended-up involved in a hijacking case. Wrote a pretty good article about it and won a few awards. She's a 09er, but I don't think she buys into it."

"What gives you that idea?"

"She didn't seem too thrilled to know that 09er King Kane had tossed me off the case. Apparently, she's become tight with the Sheriff's son in her first day and offered me dibs on any info she can obtain, legally, I hope. She doesn't seem to play the part either. She's pretty much like you at that age…that certain "I-Am-Who-I-Am-And-I-Will-Kick-Your-Ass-If-You-Say-Otherwise" attitude. Needless to say, Weevil likes her and what the heck, if nothing else, for old time's sake…"

"She's a student at Neptune…did you call Wallace?"

Keith paused. He looked at Veronica as she did not hear a word he said or what he was alluding. She was more interested in the background of the new girl rather than the fact he missed his daughter. He missed her and didn't think it was fair for her to live millions of frequent flier miles away. He didn't think it was fair that _she_ had to be the one to leave and never come back. Speaking of coming back, what _was_ she doing here?

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'll call him tomorrow." He gave her a wide grin and pointed a finger at her, realizing what she was really doing. "What are you doing here? The only time you come home is if my life has been threatened or someone's died. You _never_ come here. What's going on?"

"We broke it off."

"You did?" Keith's voice asked, now laced with more concern.

"No big deal. We both came to the conclusion the relationship was going nowhere, at least nowhere we wanted to go. He had a job offer in North Carolina with his former partner, he wanted to take it and I let him."

"And you came back here to nurse your wounds?" Still not entirely believing her.

"Actually, I came back to nurse yours. I know how much you loved Seeley."

"C'mon, you know I love you more…"

"Dad..."

"So what if he was a good solid man who had an impeccable record and a job with benefits and excitement…so what if he had court side tickets to the Lakers… yeah, you're right I am going to really miss him."

"I knew you would."

"He **wasn't** almost your brother. He **didn't** threaten you or end-up in jail. He **didn't** steal to sell valuable criminal evidence away. He **wasn't** hiding the fact his family were con artists." Keith paused, in jest. "So why _did you break-up with him?_"

_TBC_


	7. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: So, I just watched the Season Premiere and I really really really wished I owned even like Piz's unwahsed car but I don't. _

_Reviews: Thank you still to all those who R and R. For those that caught the Bones shout-out; ya'll just rock. And there is always more to art than what we know. _

_Author's Note: Okay, I owe a bit of thanks to an old Beta friend for pushing the block out of my way. I also owe deep thanks to Rob Thomas for the latest episode of Veronica Mars. I am smitten all over again. A BIG thanks to LoVeAngel97 for pointing out my major error---oops. Also, I mean no personal attack against LOST, some of my best friends are LOST watchers. I am also a HUGE J.J. Abrams admirer!_

**KANE Household**

**FOYER**

It's raining. If I were superstitious I'd assume that this would be a bad omen. The _real_ bad omen is the Ann Taylor blouse and skirt I have on with matching pumps. My usually messy and urban hip hair is neatly curled and held back with a deep green barrette. I look like a politician's wife.

Kill. Me. Now.

The thing is we haven't even gone inside yet; we're still standing here outside the door waiting to be let it in. The picture perfect New York family- including successful legal father, domesticated over-bearing housewife, two twin intelligent athletic boys and if you buy now, get the adopted black sheep rebellious teenage daughter absolutely stink'n free! Seriously.

The moment the under-paid domestic servant opens the door for us I take in my surroundings. The Kane Castle is huge. I mean Donald-Trump-Couldn't-Afford-It-Huge. The large foyer is done in a design that reminds me of Pemberly from the _Pride and Prejudice BBC Mini-series_. (I have expect Mr. Darcy to appear in a dapper coat. You know cause Colin Firth would make this whole experience worth it.) There are photographs of the happy family everywhere. Baby pictures of Scott. Hannah as a toddler. Nichole and Duncan's wedding photograph. A picture of the whole family skiing at a posh resort. All the time smiling and happy and I wonder if they are medicated. _Nobody can be this happy_, I conclude bitterly. I begin looking for teenage pictures of Duncan hoping to catch a glimpse of Keith's elusive and famous daughter.

_C'mon stupid, you really think he's gonna have pictures of his ex-girlfriend on his walls,_ I think soberly. I am treated to one teenage picture of Duncan. I lag behind my family, who are oohing and ahhing as Mrs. Kane enters greeting us, and look at the photograph. It's Duncan and a girl. Duncan is standing with his arm around her and she has her head on his shoulder wearing a goofy grin. They're sitting in the sand in summer outfits but they're not really posing for the photo. It was like if the photographer caught them when they weren't noticing her.

I wouldn't see a picture of Veronica Mars, but I have found "her" picture because she took the picture I'm staring at. And looking a little more, I would bet my signedcopy of _In Cold Blood_ that the girl is Lilly Kane, Duncan's dead sister and Veronica's dead best friend. The picture has captured me because I wonder what things were like for her, Duncan and Lilly and what happened? What happened beyond the news stories, TV movies, and best selling books?

"My sister." A deep voice snaps me back to reality. I jump around startled to the face of Duncan Kane.

"Oh…I'm sorry." I squeal. Did I just squeal? I take a minute to force my stomach back down my throat and size up Mr. Kane. Okay, so we know where Scott got the looks from…no doubt about it---- Duncan Kane, even though almost as old as my dad, is good looking in a George Clooney kinda way. He's 6'3 maybe, with a full head of dark brown hair and a perfect symmetrical face. His looks are unassuming and All-American. His smile could melt a polar ice cap. It's pleasing yet after what I know, I'll admit I'm scared of it, too. I stick out my hand properly for a hand shake. "I'm January Grant." I sound like Mary Tyler Moore.

Duncan Kane smiles once more and shakes my hand---_pleasantly_. It's not firm or flimsy, but almost polite. "It's nice to meet you. I've heard quite a bit about you from my kids.

I laugh nervously. _Yeah, I bet you have._ "Don't believe everything you hear." I mutter.

He laughs quietly. "I won't."

"I'm sorry about back there, but I was fascinated by the photograph."

"With what? How much Scott looks like me? Or my sister?"

"Actually neither…" _Careful January._ "The photographer. It looks like it might be an early Veronica M., I mean Mars…Veronica Mars."

Duncan Kane should have been shaken by my statement. I want to shake him. I want him to know that I am in the battle and I am armed. I want him to be afraid of me or if nothing else, never write me off. I want to get back at him for what he did to _my_ hero. Yet Duncan isn't shaken but his look turns dark for a moment and then a straight poker face. "How did you know who took that photo?" His even tone voice replies, looking past me to it.

"Veronica had a show in New York at my friend's mom's gallery. I went and have been in love with her photographs since. I can spot one of her photos or a real one very easily. Her style is unique. But obviously, since this had to be when you were teens she wasn't quite a professional…"

He gave a small wry small. "Professional is the last word, I would think of…" He mumbled, thinking I wouldn't hear him.

"I have one of her photographs in my room…_Shot of Three_. It's amazing how she captured three people who seem still but move in the photograph. You see they move in an area of stillness- a graveyard. The photo looks like someone stole a moment from the three and they never knew why it had to be stolen." I play the part of naïve girl and act as if I am merely going on about a favorite artist. _And the Oscar goes to…_

Silence permeates the air as we begin to walk towards the living room. It's a moment before he speaks- a defining moment. "She stole a lot of things."

I leave it at that. I could push harder and I could get in over my head. I'm brave but not stupid. Somehow, I know he's not saying Veronica was a klepto. Just what did she take from Duncan? What did she take from the three people in my picture? I should change the subject but I don't get a chance as the moment we arrive the living room, my mother begins to introduce me to Logan Echolls.

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**Kane Household**

**LIVING ROOM**

_Logan Echolls_. In case you have just resurfaced from that stupid island from _LOST _or another J.J. Abrams series in which you will never really understand what's going on; let me enlighten you.

Logan Echolls was the former boyfriend of Lilly Kane (Duncan's sibling) and Veronica Mars (Duncan's ex and Keith's daughter). His father was Aaron Echolls- alcoholic, child-abuser, murderer, and murder victim. (They never did catch his killer but rumor had it that it was a Kane Corporation hit. Everyone in Neptune considered his death a win-win situation.) Logan's mother was Lynn Echolls-dearest mother, neglected wife, and bridge jumper. All this and his sister Trina is not his sister at all. Logan became a rich boy who lived in a penthouse suite. He spent three years at Hearst University before dropping out and leaving for L.A. With his money and family connections he started a production company- a Fortune 500 Production Company we all know and love---Epic Stories Corporation.

If you've been to the movies and you waited two hours in line to see it; it belonged to them. Logan became the next Brian Singer. He moved from blockbusters to television with his hit show, _We Use To Be Friends._ Alright, I lied; it's a critically-acclaimed-Emmy-winning-I-watch-rather-than-TIVO-show.

Yet for all his success, which he undermines with monk-like and psychotic-jackass behavior, he lost the girl. Logan Echolls has the extreme pleasure of being Steven Spielberg's ex-son-in-law. Ouch. Rumors and Page Six have it that Steven backed out of Logan's latest film because of the family ties being severed and Logan sold the "family modest home" and moved out of L.A.

I guess we know where he moved. So, to recap, I am standing in the living room in a Halloween costume meeting a big time producer; who if my nose tells me right, is a little drunk. _Good Lord man, find some mouthwash! _I look at him and place out my hand once again. "Hi, I'm January Grant."

"Are you now?" _Okay that's rude, _I thought.

"Duncan…" Nichole's voice seethes as she sense Logan's attitude slipping.

"No, I'm not. I'm actually your AA Counselor. Obviously, someone's forgotten the 12 steps- I'm here to remind you. First step…ADMIT you're a drunken slob who does not want to be here." I reply sarcastically. Did I mention I'm not best with first impressions?

Logan sobers up a little and stares me down. "Duncan, you didn't tell me there would be children here? I would have hired a clown." He smirks. He leans down to me, the smell of Jack Daniels _almost_ has me wearing a lampshade. "And what do you want little girl--- a pony or a Barbie dreamhouse?"

"I'll take the pony but seeing how there is already a jackass in the room- I'll save you the trouble."

Logan backs up and laughs more. Duncan is standing further back, concealing his own laugh and placing a firm hand on his wife. Nichole has her arms crossed with an expression unsure of she wants to correct my language or hug me. My parents are sitting on the sofa pretending I don't exist.

"Really, I mean it- it's so cute to hear a twelve year old cuss."

"I bet. I guess that means your date with Dakota Fanning didn't go well, though right?"

"It went well enough- at least her mommy isn't dressing her these days. Do you have a matching purse because if you did…that would be so special."

"No matching purse." I shrug. "They sold-out---you know…" I lower my voice. "Kinda like your career."

The room was silent. Logan's face no longer held amusement- it didn't hold anger either. Duncan's hands were in the pockets of his neatly pressed khakis; a sure sign from him I was in trouble. Nichole was retreating as fast as she could to the kitchen to menial tasks. My Dad was standing and walking towards me with a furrowed brow. This was his bluff. The look was supposed to scare me into apologies and other niceties. I never bought it. My Mom was sitting at the edge of the couch gulping her wine back. But before the situation could explode; the bell rang.

Saved by the bell. Or rather Coach Casablancas and his wife and kids.

_What circle of hell is this?_

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	8. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Rob Thomas, CW, and whoever else are in full rights of this amazing show. I do not own the quotes or songs. I do however own a few characters and a goldfish named House.**

**Summary: The story is in the future-almost 20 years-and takes place after the events of S2. The rest, well read and find out. Reviews are necessarry since this is my first attempt at VM fanfic.**

**Author's Note: I am continued to be amazed that people are still reading. Please keep reviewing. I am trying to make the chapters longer but I am now working full time and moving. I write when I can. Thanks!**

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**KANE HOUSEHOLD**

**Patio**

Nuclear bombs.

Typhoons.

Volcanoes erupting.

**Me.**

All natural disasters and all cause mass destruction in their wakes. Tonight, I took out not only the Kanes, the Casablancas, Logan Echolls, but my own family. I wish I could offer a logical reason for the things I say and do but I can't…

Well, I can but I don't want to. I don't want to give-up the reason I had for managing to piss off everyone in the room tonight. I'd just like to plead temporary insanity, find a padded room, and down a couple of Prozac. Not that _that_ might not happen after my parents get done with me. I'm seeing grounding in the near future with the possibility of a boarding school in an obscure Scandinavian country. Too bad I have been taking Spanish the past five years, right?

How did I manage to cause such chaos? How did I manage to create drama worthy of a Sondheim theatrical production? It's really quite simple. I saw them standing together.

Which them you ask? Well let me start at the beginning...

Tonight, after I had finished obliterating Logan Echolls, the Casablancas arrived. Coach _Dick_, Cindy/Mac, and the twins- Meredith and Michael joined in the already burgeoning festivities. I spent the next 30 minutes till dinner trying to wrap my head around the marriage of the Dick and Cindy. By my observation from gym, Dick hadn't changed at all since high school. He was a former 09er with no pity or tolerance for anyone not running in the circles in his head. I mean c'mon---his brother was a psychotic serial killer and rapist- how does that_ not_ change you? Then again, how did he manage to marry Cindy "Mac" Mackenzie? Mac, as she was known in the golden days, was his brother's ex-girlfriend and a computer geek and BFF of Veronica Mars. She seems intelligent and possibly cool. Does love really blind you _that_ much? By the time dinner was served I concluded that she either married for money or because Dick had layers---not many layers but maybe there was a shallow depth… Okay who am I kidding? I still didn't get it.

At the table, lucky me, was seated next to Hannah and Michael. Hannah ignored me and talked Homecoming with Meredith and Scott. Michael wasn't that bad. In fact, we had a lovely conversation about the Yankees' chance at a World Series win. (I was serious about the Yankees. I totally support them.) During our "normal" discussion I looked up. I should have never looked up. I looked up and at that one moment, Duncan, Logan and Mac had stood up to get drink refills or go to the bathroom-their reasons for standing- seriously I had no clue. But all three stood together and the flash went and the picture took…

_Shot of Three_ was of Duncan Kane, Cindy Mackenzie, and Logan Echolls. The photograph I had loved was a photograph of three people within inches of me. I _had_ their stolen moment. Looking at each of them with the new picture I had mentally taken I could estimate they were 21 when the photo was taken. That would have put the picture around the year 2009. The next thought, the one that got me in trouble was what grave were they standing over? (If this thought had stayed in my head all would have ended decently…)

"You're in my photograph." I spoke out loud. Not to Michael or anyone in particular but to "them."

They all three turned and looked towards me. Duncan stopped and turned first because I had mentioned owning the photograph to him earlier. Then Logan and Cindy followed behind him. Duncan Kane's look was a false puzzlement. "What?"

"The photograph in my room by Veronica Mars; _Shot of Three-_ it is a picture of the three of you. You were twenty-one when it was shot; give or take a year. Logan, you were standing close to a poorly marked grave. Behind you stood Duncan and then, Mrs. Casablancas. All three of you were looking at the grave and you didn't seem to know the photograph was being taken. Maybe it was being taken behind a tree or mausoleum. You never didn't know someone was watching you."

"HOW THE HELL DO YOU KNOW ABOUT THAT GRAVE?" Logan snarled.

"It's in the picture. I know nothing more than it's probably a grave here in Neptune and it probably has everything to do with why Duncan and Mrs. Casablancas had Keith Mars pulled off the cheerleading case."

"You did what?"

This time the exclamation was from Nichole Kane. She had risen to her feet and her napkin was thrown down. Her eyes glared in Duncan's general direction with confusion and spite.

"I had Keith pulled off the case. I don't like the way he obtains his information." Duncan tried to offer calmly.

Nichole wasn't buying it. "No you didn't. You did it because you're still mad. You're still angry but not with Keith, who has done nothing to you but find your sister's killer or save this town from one more lunatic but because of his _daughter._ Duncan, when are you going to get over her? When are you going to get over Meg? Cause when you do... or if you can't- let me know…" She paused and tears streamed in her eyes as she moved from her chair. "So I can get over you." She mumbled apologies and escaped to the upstairs bedroom.

"Maybe I'm new to this conversation but since when did it matter to you if Keith Mars was involved in a case you know nothing about…" Cindy retorted.

She had a point. She didn't know me. She didn't know I was a high school reporter. She didn't know I was working for Keith Mars. She didn't know that before she even came in the room I was prejudiced against her for belittling my hero.

"You're right Mrs. Casablancas I know nothing about the case…yet. But I will and I will find out what happened BUT _we would all_ find out a lot sooner if you and Mr. Kane hadn't pulled Keith Mars off the case. I think I get it though- you hate Veronica Mars. All three of you hate Keith's daughter and you are going to punish Keith because of paternity. Am I right? You're going to punish Neptune in the name of revenge and in the spirit of having money to do it. My real question: what did Veronica Mars do to make you hate her that much? I don't understand."

"And. You. Won't." Duncan replied in dark and sinister tones. He then excused himself to go check on his wife. Hannah, Scott, Meredith and Michael started their own "glare down" of me. _I_ glared at Logan and Cindy; waiting for my answer.

"You know what's so funny about all this, about all the drama and pain you brought into this house tonight---it's exactly what _she_ would have done. She would have asked the same questions and caused the same reactions and wouldn't care who she hurt in the process. You. Are. Just. Like. Her." Logan spoke clearly. He then took one long look at me. I didn't care much for the look anymore than I cared for his entire demeanor. "Maybe you should stop trying to defend the guilty and leave the victims alone. This conversation is over." With his final speech, he merely walked out of the house.

The Casablancas followed suit without any words to my parents or to the Kane children. I had an eerie feeling I would be running extra laps in gym the next day as they left. Scott and Hannah left the dinner table soon after to in complete silence.

And then there were the Grants. Just my family whom I had completely embarrassed and damaged in one dinner sitting. Before they could yell or demand for us to leave, I walked out of the dining room and outside to breathe. I think I have stopped breathing. Out here, I can replay all the events that led to the disaster I caused. The words that catch me in the middle of my instant replay are Logan's.

_"You are just like her…"_

He was demeaning me. He meant his words to slam me; to stab me. But how could they when I didn't know Veronica Mars and what little I did- I didn't see as a bad thing? I knew the basics. Daughter of divorced parents: a father who was an ex-sheriff/ P.I. who saved the town and a mother who ran out after sleeping with her boyfriend's father and spent the rest of her years in a nursing home with alcoholic induced Alzheimer's. She graduated with honors from Neptune High; where she was once close to Duncan, Logan, Meg, Weevil, Wallace, and Mac. She went to Hearst College and before graduation from Hearst moved to Europe and began her photography career. What was horrible about her or her life? What did she do? I wasn't any closer to answering that question and I still had a case to help solve. And being grounded, which I knew was a fact, would impede my investigation. I pulled out my cell phone and quickly dialed before my Mom took it from me. I called four people insuring that I wasn't going to be stopped by the truth- no matter who it offended. After all, doesn't the truth set us free?


	9. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Rob Thomas, CW, and whoever else are in full rights of this amazing show. I do not own the quotes or songs. I do however own a few characters and a Beta fish named Bailey.**

**Summary: The story is in the future-almost 20 years-and takes place after the events of S2. The rest, well read and find out. Reviews are necessarry since this is my first attempt at VM fanfic.**

**Author's Note: Ahhh! Work. New job. New house. Lots going on and a new season of VM which I am desperately missing because I live in the middle of nowhere. Thank you---seriously---thank you for all the reviews. I have a lot written, so hopefully I can update sooner. Please for all that is holy and Neptune- keep reading and reviewing. Oh yeah, one last shout out to one of my _other_ favorite shows.**

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**GRANT HOUSE**

**My Room**

"What in the hell did you do?"

This was Isa's first response as she walked into my room and threw her bag down. She took a long appreciative look at the spacious quarters. I have to say that my room kicks butt. I have a huge antique four poster bed. The walls are pink with black stripes. On my walls are three pieces of "art": _Shot of Three,_ a huge poster of New York City Streets at dawn, and an original theater movie poster of _Pretty in Pink_. My curtains are pink and black with lights around them. Black shag rugs, antique bookcases, and one huge computer/work area complete it. My Mom keeps the door shut as my room challenges the tasteful décor of the rest of the "mansion."

Whatever.

Isa takes a seat on the bed. She's waiting for my answer. A knock on the door postpones my diatribe.

Enter Alex- complete with state of the art laptop that looks nothing like a computer. Which is good since my parents took mine. He merely nods his approval of the room and takes a seat in my large pink computer chair.

"Is Heathe coming?" Isa asks Alex with an undercurrent of sarcasm.

"You know he's not. He's with Flashback."

"Flashback?" I asked.

"Flashback is what we affectionately call Heathe's resident groupie. She's an upper-middle class wanna-be hippie. Dumber than a brick." Isa flared with attitude. It would appear neither Alex nor Isa approved of Heathe's dating choice. Who am I _to not_ base my entire judgment of a person on two people's perceptions I barely know and the fact I think Heathe is hot? I shrug and return to Isa's original question.

"I am being detained from car privileges, my cellular device, my notebook computer, outside activities and possibly school for the next week. The only reason you two are sitting here is because I convinced my parents you're part of the group of students that helps new students catch-up. As far as they know, we're working on math."

"Yeah, yeah- we got this from your S.O.S.---but what I don't get is how in your third day here you managed almost a life sentence?" She replied, her eyebrow ring rising in curiosity.

I stood up from the rug and I walked over, past Isa, to where the infamous photo hung over my bed. I stood in front of the photo and touched all three persons lightly, finally knowing them, and then turned to face Isa and Alex. "It all has to do with this photo, Keith Mars, and one very bad _bad _dinner."

"How bad?" Alex asked, finally curious too.

"We went to the Kanes. The whole Kane family was there along with the Casablancas…" I noticed Alex and Isa both grimace at the name. "And as an extra special treat…" Note sarcastic quote marks. "Logan Echolls was there."

"WAIT! Rewind that; _the _Logan Echolls was at dinner. The Logan Echolls who is a major film producer and newly divorced and on People's 50 Hottest People in the World…." Isa was incredulous. I might even think she was a fan of the person I wasn't so thrilled in meeting.

"That would be the one. Let's not forget drunken moron, too." I moved from the photo and back to my original spot on the rug. I looked at them with a heavy mood. "The photograph over my bed is of Duncan Kane, Logan Echolls, and Cindy Casablancas. It was taken by Veronica M. or Veronica Mars…take your pick. Either way you spin it- she's Keith Mars' daughter. And by Keith Mars, I mean _the_ Keith Mars who was removed from the Cheerleading Case by Duncan and Cindy. Through a meeting with Mr. Mars and the dinner, I was able to deduce that Duncan, Cindy and Logan have a vendetta- of sorts- against Veronica. A vendetta which has spilled over into the Kidnappings."

The room was thick with silence. Isa had turned and looked at the picture. Alex, he was looking at me. He was looking at me very intently with a slightly unnerving look. Did he expect me to say more?

"That's the Lynn Echolls Memorial Graveyard."

I looked to Isa, who was looking at the photograph. She had just matter-of-factly stated the question burning my mind. I looked to her and Alex for more information.

"It was renamed several years ago when Logan placed a large memorial angel statue in honor of his mother there. That tombstone in the picture is gone. It's where the statue is…right next to the Kane Family Mausoleum. How did they get a tombstone removed?" Isa's statement and question had me floored. The grave was gone. And every person last night, every one that I accused, knew it. Logan had removed…or was it covered-up the very place he once stood- a place of painful memories that had to do with Veronica Mars. My thoughts kept coming back to Keith's daughter.

The fourth call I made at the Kane's was to Keith Mars. I wanted confirmation. I wanted to know I hadn't jumped on a limb for my own misguided beliefs. I told Keith about Logan and how he was in the picture with Duncan and Cindy. There had been a very long pause before Keith said anything. He quickly relayed to me that I was right. The picture was of the three of them and that Veronica did indeed take the picture from a place close by. Nevertheless for my great discovery I was then battered with thousands of questions about Logan Echolls. I answered them as best I could and returning them with "why was Keith" so interested in Logan's return. He said nothing but gave me a strict order to stay away from him at all costs. I made a promise I would…do my best to stay away from him; my best and nothing more. If I accidentally ran into him then that was Logan's doing not mine.

I slumped on the bed beside Isa and looked to the both of them. I continued my story. "We need to add this up. This is like a twisted math equation. We know what everything equals…"

"You're missing a variable." Alex finished for me. He then turned his notebook computer around towards me. On it was a screen of information on three people- Logan, Duncan, and Cindy.

I recognized the screen. That was an information database that very few people knew about and those who did were paid to keep it a secret. It was a database for private investigators. You want dirt, this was a freaking mud pit. But just how did the sweet geek happen on this site? He turned the computer back around and began reading off information.

Most of it, I knew. You could Google about three-fourths of the stuff. It really wasn't anything I didn't know.

"What about Veronica Mars?" I asked.

A minute later, Alex had her file up. It read a mile long and then some. _Wow_, she had been a definite hell-raiser in Neptune. Her family life was dreadful. That I knew from Keith's books. Drunk mother who runs away and eventually ends up dead in an alcohol overdose. Father who was run out of office and then suddenly POOF beloved by all but not before facing the wrath of the Kane family- whom he really pissed off after accusing Jake Kane of the murder of his daughter. Other than that, Veronica managed to find her own trouble. Alex read on. It wasn't till the later college years did the story get interesting.

"She left Hearst College at semester break and transferred to a college in London. She finished her term there but waited another year before finishing school- which she did in a university in Ireland. After that, she began her photography career- interning abroad for several years before finally making it back to the States. She's been involved in one more murder case since her college days. It was back in D.C. She did crime photography for a special case requested by Agent Seeley Booth. She remained on the move, with temporary residence in D.C., for the last few years."

I mulled the information over. Confident and kick-ass student suddenly leaves nice Liberal Arts college for Europe at the end of the semester. She then moves to London and finishes term before taking a year off. She then takes a year and finishes education in Ireland. There was a piece missing…what happened the year between London and Ireland?

"Alex, is any information given about the year between London and Ireland?"

"Not really. Just an address in London, where she apparently lived. That's it."

"What are you thinking?" Isa finally piped in.

"I'm thinking that it still doesn't make sense for three friends to hate her this much for simply moving away. Duncan Kane wasn't even back in the States when she left, right? What reason would _he _have to be pissed?" I thought about Logan. He and Veronica had been involved. What if that relationship had gone really sour? "My best guess is that Veronica and Logan had a bad break-up which sent her fleeing the scene; Cindy Mackenzie mad that her best friend had bailed; and Duncan Kane upset that Logan and Cindy were upset."

"Not enough." Alex retorted. "You could ask Mr. Mars?"

Was he serious?!? Ask Keith Mars, "Hey- so why does everyone hate your child? What did she do?" No, I couldn't ask Keith. But truthfully, this case was stymied. The mystery of Veronica Mars would have to wait; the Cheerleading Case needed my attention. I stood up and walked to the other side of the room. I placed on my resolve face. "Now, what do we know about the missing pom-pom girls?"

And with that Isa, Alex, and I began working on the facts of the bigger mystery. Yet no matter how hard I tried, I had a feeling this case would always come back to the large photograph in my room.


	10. Chapter 9

**Summary: The story is in the future-almost 20 years-and takes place after the events of S2. The rest, well read and find out. Reviews are necessarry since this is my first attempt at VM fanfic.**

**Author's Note: So yeah, I haven't updated in awhile. Hope someone is still reading. But this new job and moving once again has hit me. BUT...I have a lot of updates waiting and ready to be put up and the story should be done before October. I NEED REVIEWS...please. Oh and I am beside myself at the cancellation of VM...I don't know how I will carry on...**

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****Neptune High**

_**Fourth Period Study Hall**_

Ahhh, the art of study hall. Four hundred years from now the school system will still fail to realize the "study hall" is anything but what it defers to or intends for the students. Great students don't catch up on homework- they get ahead. Good students attempt to do the homework before the home part catches them. Okay students start with the best intentions of doing homework but will fail to do anything of the sort as they text on their cell phones, read magazines, or as Allyson Gant is so expertly doing- painting her nails.

What do I do?

I tap into the school resource system and pull up the files of all of the missing girls. This requires "nudging" my way into the Neptune High School database. Thankfully and most graciously Alex helped- all with one little flash drive. It's a cute flash drive too. He painted blue and pink stars on it with a Sharpie- like the stars I drew on his bag in my room the other day when I was bored.

I stop a moment and think of Isa and Alex. I have friends here. Wow, did I just like think that? I miss Lalie and George, but I haven't exactly kept in constant contact with them either. I was worried. I thought I would become this pathetic girl who worshipped kittens and ate loads of chocolate frosting and drew unicorns everywhere after a week here. At the very worst, I was worried you see me…shopping.

Oh dear God!

But no, I was sitting in a room with them-talking, eating, (When mom brought "Snack Cakes" to my study friends… not that she totally approves of them, but it's a start...) and laughing. We were having fun and I wasn't so worried my incarceration would be detrimental to my health or worse my career. They promised to follow leads, keep me informed, and stay by my side.

I had friends.

And friends, well friends could sneak you into the school Resource System and allow you access to student, teacher, and faculty files. God bless friends!

I pulled up the first name I had:

MICHELLE OVERPERE

239 Ariel Circle

Neptune, CA

Age: 17 years old

Parents/Guardians: Mr. Jesse and Mrs. Rachel Overpere

Emergency Contact: Mr. Jesse Overpere (Father)

Neptune Elementary School- 1st Grade

555-7908

Mrs. Rachel Overpere

Neptune Sheriff's Department

555-9111 or 555-1234

G.P.A.: 3.8

Activities: National Honor Society, Neptune Cheerleading Varsity, Neptune Students Against Drunk Driving

Attendance: STATUS NOT AVAILABLE

Notes: NONE

* * *

KAMI PETERSON 

4512 Oceanside Dr.

Apt. #45

Neptune, CA

Age: 15 years old

Parents/Guardians: Ms. Grace Manning-Peterson

Emergency Contact: Ms. Grace Manning-Peterson

Neptune Memorial Hospital- Maternity Ward

555-3475 ext #24

G.P.A.: 3.4

Activities: Neptune Cheerleading- Junior Varsity, Neptune Gymnastics Team

Attendance: STATUS NOT AVAILABLE

Notes: Kami has an irregular heart murmur and takes a medication to correct it. She is free to use the medication as needed. Father is deceased. He passed away when Kami and Kara, identical twins, were 12 years old.

* * *

KARA PETERSON 

4512 Oceanside Dr.

Apt. #45

Neptune, CA

Age: 15 years old

Parents/Guardians: Ms. Grace Manning-Peterson

Emergency Contact: Ms. Grace Manning-Peterson

Neptune Memorial Hospital- Maternity Ward

555-3475 ext #24

G.P.A.: 3.0

Activities: Neptune Cheerleading- Junior Varsity, Neptune Gymnastic Team, Neptune Navigator Anchor

Attendance: STATUS NOT AVAILABLE

Notes: Kara suffers from asthma and must use an inhaler as necessary. Father is deceased. He passed away when Kami and Kara, identical twins, were 12 years old.

* * *

So there they were. The three girls missing from Neptune; all of them were cheerleaders and all of them were _not _'09ers. The name Manning rang over my head like a blue light special- why did that name sound so familiar? And another point, if Kami and Kara were Alex's cousins then it was through the maternal side. 

Is it terribly wrong to search your friends' files? I mean it's not like I don't trust them but what part do they play? What's their side to this story?

_No January- that is crossing the line. You just made good with them why would you screw it up? _My inner voice began chastising me.

Darn that internal voice. My fingers lingered over the keys and before I knew it- before I could control myself- I was typing away.

* * *

ISABELLA MONDE' 

238 Ariel Circle

Neptune, CA

Age: 16 years old

Parents/Guardians: Mr. Jon' and Mrs. Gabriella Monde'

Emergency Contact: Mrs. Gabriella Monde'

About The Town- Manager

555-9147

Mr. Jon' Monde'

Neptune District School Offices

555-9642 ext #349

G.P.A.: 3.9

Attendance: PERFECT

Activities: National Honor Society, Neptune Navigator Reporter, Neptune French Club-President, Neptune F.B.L.A., Neptune Students Against Drunk Driving, Pirates Art Club-Secretary

Notes: NONE

* * *

ALEXANDER GUAN 

21212 Diver Lane

Neptune, CA

Age: 16 years old

Parents/Guardians: Mr. Henry and Mrs. Lizzie Guan

Emergency Contact: Ms. Grace Manning-Peterson (Aunt)

Neptune Memorial Hospital- Maternity Ward

555-3475 ext #24

G.P.A.: 4.0

Activities: National Honor Society, Neptune Navigator Reporter, Neptune Students Against Drunk Driving, Neptune Computer Club, and Neptune F.B.L.A.

Notes: Alex's mother and father travel often for business. If they cannot be reached, the person should contact his aunt.

* * *

WAIT! Alex's mom is Lizzie Manning. Lizzie and Grace were sisters to Meg Manning. Meg was in the Neptune Bus Crash and the only one to survive; only to linger in a coma, wake for a few days, and die. Meg Manning was Hannah Kane's biological mother. Meg's daughter disappeared with Duncan Kane and wasn't seen till Duncan returned to Neptune. This means Hannah and Alex are cousins. And I'm thinking that Duncan didn't disappear on his own- who better to help him than his ex-girlfriend and daughter of a P.I. who specialized in bond jumpers and people disappearances, Veronica Mars. 

I shouldn't have snooped. The wave of…guilt- is it guilt- has flooded me. I feel like I've done something I shouldn't have- which of course I did.

I close down my computer and remove my flash drive. The school files could tell me very little I couldn't probably unearth with the help of my friend _Google_. What I have done is gone deeper into the mystery of the Mars family and why exactly people hate them. I'm guessing Keith knows the correlation between the Kanes and the Mannings but a little visit to see if he can give me more can't hurt anything either.

Besides, my next class is Coach Casablancas and I'm sure he'll be happy to have a Grant-free day as much as I will enjoy missing running laps because he hates me. Everybody wins.


	11. Chapter 10

Title: Be My Escape

Rating: PG-ish

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Rob Thomas, CW, and whoever else are in full rights of this amazing show. I do not own the quotes or songs. I do however own a few characters and a very large supply of cookies.

Summary: The story is in the future-almost 20 years-and takes place after the events of S2. The rest, well read and find out. Reviews are necessary since this is my first attempt at VM fanfic.

A/N: Sorry this is short. I wanted to get this out while I still had a life. I plan on losing it between work and work in a week. I will do my best to update as much as I can. I am glad you guys liked the Manning connection and I have a few other tricks up my sleeve. Oh, and thanks for the reviews- they keep pushing me to write. LASTLY and quite important-the italic speak is being spoken in French. I do not speak French, thought I wish I could.

**

* * *

**

Veronica Mars felt a nauseating rush of nostalgia as she sat at the front desk in her father's office. Weevil…Eli was in T.J. tracing a lead on a dead-beat dad who owed a mint in child support. Dad was returning from San Diego and their forensic lab with the latest information concerning the Cheerleading Kidnappings.

She flinched. It was _her fault_ her Dad had been pulled from the case. Her fault that he wouldn't be able to do the job he did so well, again. She flipped through the files her Dad and Weevil had built on the missing girls. There was nothing unusual about this case which for Neptune was unusual. She flipped through the notes and realized that several were signed _January Grant_.

January Grant was her dad's elusive "groupie" and free labor. Her father was just as thrilled with the young girl's progress on the case. She was dogged and had contacts most P.I.s only dream of having. Wallace had described the girl as one full of "spunk." He'd said she was a strange kid, having grown-up in the lap of luxury but without the attitude that came with wealth and privilege. She, herself, seemed impressed that the girl could spot her own work.

The door chimed. Veronica shut the files and placed them in the drawer. She was nervous on a level-because no one but her Dad, Wallace and Weevil knew she was in town. She'd preferred it would stay that way, too. The door opened and a young girl walked-in.

She was medium height, cropped multi-layered and colored hair, several piercings in her ear, and was sporting jeans and a Yankees t-shirt. This was January Grant.

"Hello."

"Uh…hello. Is Keith Mars here?"

"No. He will be here shortly. Are you January?"

"Depends... are you at all associated with the school system?"

"No."

"Police department?"

"No."

"Amway?"

"No, but may I ask you about your personal relationship with Jesus Christ?"

January laughed. "I'm Catholic, we got a Pope- does that count?" She paused and laughed. "Then, yes, I'm January Grant. And you might be…"

"I'd thought you know. You have the talent for spotting me."

January let her bag fall to the ground, her laptop making a loud thud. "You're Veronica Mars?!?"

"Veronica…snoop…bitch…devil…yeah, that would be me."

"I'm going to prepare you now but I am going to like totally gush over your work. I am a huge fan. You are an incredible photographer. I mean like America's foremost talented photographer and I'd think you deserve the Nobel Peace Prize."

Veronica was amused by the girl. She was, as Wallace said, "spunky." She offered the girl a seat, as she took hers again behind the desk. "I don't think they give Nobel Peace Prizes for photographers."

"But they should…don't you think? I went to your show in New York and it was amazing! My friend's mom had to drag me out."

Veronica blushed. "Well, thanks. It's a living."

"What was it like working for the F.B.I?"

"It was good. It was a different pace. I prefer the art to the demands. But enough about me, I hear you're quite the reporter…"

It was January's turn to blush. "Not yet, but I will be. I just can't believe I am working with Keith Mars. I mean he's not a journalist but he's worked these cases that are sooo big and I am babbling. I'm serious about the work. That's actually why I am here…"

"What class are you skipping?"

"Coach _Dick_ Casablancas. We have a mutual hate relationship. He hates me and I loathe him. I honestly think it's just because I pissed off his friends and wife."

Veronica's ears perked with curiosity. "How did you manage that?"

January shrugged, "Oh you know… I discovered that the people in the picture- _Shot of Three-_ were Cindy "Mac" Casablancas, Logan Echolls, and Duncan Kane and I called them on it. Duncan chased his wife, Cindy just left and Logan ripped me."

"Logan Echolls…he was there?"

"Yeah, kind of a psychotic jackass. Well, not kind of, pretty much is a jackass."

Veronica choked everything back- Logan was back in Neptune. This could not be good. It wasn't looking any better that January had placed the people in her picture. "Yeah… he can be just that."

"Actually I'm not too fond of any of them. That's what I came to see Keith about. I think he probably already knows but Hannah Kane, Duncan Kane's precious daughter, is a cousin to two of the missing girls. She's a Manning. Kami and Kara Peterson are the daughters of Grace Manning-Peterson- Hannah's real mother's youngest sister."

"I remember Grace."

"I know about her parents and what they did to her. Your dad touched on it briefly in his book _Not Pictured._ Kinda makes me wonder why Duncan wouldn't let Hannah have anything to do with her cousins and aunts, and all of the sudden he's posting a reward for their return? I'm not a psychologist but I'd say repressed guilt about something."

Veronica sighed. Repressed guilt would be an understatement. Duncan and Veronica were responsible for a good part of the destruction of Meg Manning; at least it's what Veronica believed. The only redemption she found in the whole fiasco was rescuing Meg's baby from Mommy and Daddy Dearest. She doubted Lizzie and Grace saw it that way. She didn't agree either with Duncan cutting Hannah off from the Mannings completely- that was wrong, too. Lizzie and Grace had been victims as much as Meg when it came to their family. "I'm sure Dad knows about the Manning connection but I'll write it down in the file, too- just in case."

January gave Veronica a bright smile; a rare bright smile. The smile tugged at Veronica in a curious way. "Thanks Veronica. I better get going though- Dick I can miss, French class with my friend Isa I can't." She stood and grabbed her bag and began to head out the door before pausing. "It was an honor to meet you. I would really like to ask you a few questions; maybe for an article for the paper. You know- local famous alumni and her words on life… Not exactly what I write but I need a good excuse to question you incessantly."

Veronica smiled back. "That would be fine. Just give me a call- I'll be in town for the next few days and I'm staying with Dad. Oh and January, could you keep my visit here between us. Not everyone, as I'm sure you know, is a fan."

January placed her finger to her lips and moved it across- giving the motion of sealing her mouth. She smiled again and walked out the door.

Veronica leaned back in the chair. Life was supposed to get easier but why did she have the sneaking suspicion that was the last thing about to happen?

**

* * *

**

**6****th**** Period French 2**

It's a pity I have to take this class. Along with Isa, whose parents are both French, I speak the language fluently. Two summers in Paris with my Aunt Deena, my Mom's sister, and I am pretty sure this class is a complete waste of my time. In fact, besides Vice Principal Fennel, Madame Pourseau' is the only teacher/ faculty member that actually enjoys having me in her class. This is good because as long as Isa and I speak French she ignores our conversations

_"Where did you go fifth period?" _Isa asked, inquisitively.

_"Mars Investigations. I had information for Keith and since I am being forcibly detained it was now or never."_

_"How goes the grounding?"_

_"Still grounded. I believe my Mom is coming around but Dad is a stone wall. He thinks I need an attitude adjustment."_

_"You don't need an attitude adjustment; you just need to know when to keep your mouth shut and how not piss off very important people." _Isa replied in her vast knowledge of 09er protocol.

I had yet to grasp it. Maybe there was a book- _09er Life for Dummies_. I smiled still, _"But if I did that- I wouldn't be me."_

_"Quite true. Any leads on the case?"_

_"Well, sort of…but I'd rather not say anything till I'm sure this will pan out." _I couldn't tell Isa I had snooped into hers and Alex's files. Even I wasn't that stupid.

_"Your call."_

_"Haven't you given up yet?" _Scott Kane had turned around and was facing me. I hadn't talked to him since the dinner and basically avoided him and his entourage as much as I could.

_"I'm sorry Mr. Kane, but I don't believe this conversation involved you at all."_

_"In fact Duncan Jr. this is an A and B conversation so C your way out of it." _Isa said, full of that pose that made her my hero.

_"Really clever Isabella."_ Scott retorted, emphasizing her full name. This was a guaranteed way to piss her off.

_"What I don't understand Scott, is why you are bothered by me investigating the disappearances of three of your fellow classmates?"_

_"It's not your job."_

_"Actually it is. I have a job working for Keith Mars."_

_"Good luck with that." _He said indignantly.

_"Scott, you need to stop fighting your daddy's battles and move on."_

_"January, you need to stop putting your nose where it doesn't belong."_

_"I think her nose is exactly where it needs to be. Get over your 09er control-freak-daddy's-boy-issues and let it go and oh yeah, get. A. Life. Turn around and be a good little boy and leave us alone." _

I need to write this down- she's good. Scott Kane turned back in his seat. His face tinted red with perturbance.

_"He's a moron. He has no clue what's really going on."_

_"Like father, like son."_ I countered, thinking that was the truest fact in the whole case.


	12. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: **Oh Rob Thomas, that you would only let me... what has thou done CW? But seriously, I own nothing.

**A/N:** Okay thank you for all the reviews- I mean from the bottom of my heart and all the hours I think of how exactly I am going to write the next chapter and not have it completely suck- THANKS! Sidenote though- my job, which I do love, is in full swing right now and my hours of writing are slowly dwindling. I will try to update as soon as I can so please be patient with me and keep the reviews coming or other notes of interest. Any other brilliant VM stories I must read let me know. No better way to spend time than with good fic!

**

* * *

****Grant House**

I sat at the designer kitchen table with my American Citizenship book open. Not that I needed to actually read this book or study for this class. My family _is_ American Citizenship. Really. I can say the Pledge of Allegiance in four different languages well and two other languages sort of well. This class was a complete waste but as was our assignment we actually had to read the chapter and develop questions based on the chapter reading. As I was scanning Chapters 5 and 6 and writing asinine questions that I could've answered, my Dad walked in.

He set his briefcase in the designated cabinet and loosened his tie. I looked at my Dad. I didn't see much of him these days. He was a very busy man being the sole bread winner for our old money family. To describe him…he looked like a slightly older version of Richard Gere. I had several friends in NY who believed my Dad to be a hottie of sorts.

_Can I say ewww?_

Dad was good at his job. I loved him as an attorney. He was on his game in the courtroom and his reputation was earned by his merit alone. He paid to be where he was. Not like he was an absentee father but when I was younger and he wasn't so high on the food chain we were closer. He and I had a wonderful relationship but as I got older, he got promoted, and then the whole adoption thing- our relationship was strained when working under normal circumstances.

I took a long sip of my Vanilla Frappacino and continued to work. To my utter amazement, my Dad pulled up a chair beside me and gave me his patented "We-Need-To-Talk-Look" with a very intense stare.

_Great,_ I thought. _What have I done now?_ I looked back at him, matching him stare for stare.

"January…"

"Yes, Dad…"

"I heard a rumor in the office today."

"And what rumor would that be?"

"I was informed that my daughter was working for Keith Mars and his investigation business."

I pointed my pencil at him, trying to be glib. "You know Dad you shouldn't believe everything you hear. Didn't you ever play that game "Telephone?" See how that ended up…"

"January Grant."

"Fine, fine. Yes, I am _helping_ Keith Mars and Keith Mars is _helping _me."

"With the _Cheerleading Kidnapping _case?"

I shouldn't be at all surprised that my Dad had heard of the case. The judicial system was a wonderful gossip arena for the happenings of the city. "Yes Dad with the case. I am writing an article for the newspaper."

"I thought we had this discussion the last time you involved yourself with case."

"No, we didn't discuss anything. You yelled. I listened. Mom yelled. I listened. You threatened and I patronized you. The last involvement in the case earned me an internship at the _Times_. This case could earn me a scholarship and a chance to be editor. Do you really think I am going to pass this up?"

"January let it go. The Sheriff's department is covering the case. Keith Mars was taken off of it and probably for good reason."

_Oh Lord, here we go._ My grandmother, my Dad's mom, was a detective for the NYPD. She also wrote occasionally, when she was retired, for the _Times _on the crime beat. My Dad's older brother was also a detective. His younger brother worked in criminal forensics. His sister was a beat cop for the D.C. police. Officers of the Law and Private Investigators do not get along. There is little to no respect between either group.

My family was a little dismayed in eighth grade on hero day when I did my report on Keith Mars and his ability to solve cases even after being run out of the Sheriff's department, twice. How could I betray the family and pay homage to a P.I.?

Because the P.I. was good at his job. Better than several detectives I had met when I became involved in the last case. My Dad still felt as his family that P.I.s mucked up cases, got in the way, and were only it for the money. I guess I should've known my Dad wasn't converting to my way of thinking anytime soon and would be highly displeased to learn of my "working" for Keith.

"Dad, Keith Mars was pulled off the case because Kane Corporation threw hundreds of dollars in the air to have it done. Where is the justice in that? Next, you know he's my hero. You know working with him is a dream of mine. I am being careful and Keith will only tell me so much; so he's making sure I'm careful. And I promise you, this time I will try to not to land in the middle of _it_ or get arrested or offend numerous persons of whom you know."

"It's a little late for that." He mumbled; obviously referring to the disastrous dinner.

"Dad…" I sighed.

"January please…"

"Careful Dad. I will be careful. Scouts' honor."

"You got thrown out of the Scouts…"

"Oh that's right. Fine then, pull out the Bible and I'll take the oath!"

"January…"

"I promise Dad."

He gave me his I-Don't-Really-Believe-You-But-That-Won't-Stop-You-Look. "Alright."

"Speaking of the case…any gossip worth noting flying about the court?"

"None other than they are completely stuck and as you and I are both aware the window of time for finding these girls alive is long passed."

"What about the supposed fifth one from Pan?"

"Not a kidnapping. Just a runaway teen. They found her in Mexico with her boyfriend yesterday."

"One missing rah-rah from Pan and three from Neptune and all with a piece of jewelry found in the car. Dad, you worked a few of the serial murder cases- does this sound like the M.O. of one?"

He paused and thought. "Possibly and it wouldn't be totally bizarre for Neptune to be harboring one or two but these girls weren't forced. They knew their attacker. No broken glass or blood; it's clean and perfect."

This wasn't good news. If all four girls knew their attacker then finding the odd variable would be harder. Dad was right too. The chances of finding these girls alive was very unlikely and the way the case was moving the chances grew dimmer each moment. It looked like I would be making a trip to Pan to discover what I could about Lara, the cheerleader from Pan. I turned my focus back to my book in order to not let my Dad discover I was about to break several rules. If he couldn't see my eyes the likelihood of him pegging my next moves was lessened. He stood up and gave me a small kiss on the head and walked to his study.

After he was gone, I looked to where he sat. Familiar guilt ran over me. I had passed one more opportunity to tell him I knew. To tell him I knew I was adopted; I had failed to speak again. I just wasn't ready and right now, I needed to be ready for this case and school. Okay…who am I kidding? I needed to be ready for the case.

**

* * *

****Cups of Stone**

**Booth**

I have won! My parents relented on my grounding and I was allowed to go with Isa, Alex and Heathe to the local coffee and general hip hub, Cups of Stone to "hang." Want to know how?

Apparently my Mom was at _Starbucks_ today and standing in line for her usual no-fat-no-sugar-no-crème-double-chocolate-latte with foam while she waited for Fritz and Brock to finish school. She had just received her drink when a young man, who apparently was in a hurry, pushed my Mom and sent her drink flying all over the floor. The young man began his order and didn't appear to want to apologize till the lady behind my Mom _grabbed_ his attention.

She told the young man to apologize in words only found in a sailor's mouth and that he would buy my Mom and herself their drinks. The young man cowered and my Mom sat down with woman for coffee. The woman introduced herself as Lizzie Guan. My Mom was pleasantly surprised to meet my friend's mother- even though they were anything but 09er.

The two women had a wonderful conversation. My Mom relayed having dinner with the Kanes, Casablancas, and Logan Echolls and what a horrible time it had been and what her crazy daughter had done. Lizzie laughed. She then began to fill my Mom in on the true dirt of Neptune.

There was the Kane murder. The story of Lilly Kane, an all time slut, who was sleeping with her boyfriend's psychotic-abusive father, who killed her. This was only the beginning because then the Kanes, who thought it was Duncan, paid to cover-up the crime. Dick Casablancas was a bully and womanizer and it was no wonder he ran out of money. His father is in jail for embezzlement and screwing the I.R.S. one too many times. Why Mac married him- no one knows. Let's not forget that Dick bullied his little brother Cassidy, a rapist and mass murderer and victim of childhood sexual abuse who also committed suicide. Finally there was Logan Echolls, once a jackass always a jackass, Lizzie said. She informed my Mom that rumor had it Logan got caught banging Dick and Cassidy's step-mom. Other countless stories surfaced of the escapades of Duncan, Dick and Logan.

My Mom sat back a little confused and horrified that these people were her neighbors. Lizzie patted my Mom's hand and told her that she should proud if her daughter could piss off all of them because she'd been trying her whole life.

My Mom decided from then on we would be one of those families that was seen only when necessary and would conduct high profile background checks on all future possible acquaintances. She did decide she liked Lizzie, who was a respectable business woman and was intimidated by few. My Mom grew-up with women like that around her. Lizzie and Mom talked for the next few hours; my Mom totally forgetting about Fritz and Brock till they called. When she came home she told me I could hang out with Isa and Alex as much as I wanted. I was also supposed to stay far away from the Kanes and Casablancas till further notice.

Here I am sitting down and drinking my very fattening coffee with my friends.

"So I want to hear more about your life in the big city?" Heathe drawled.

_Kill me now, he spoke to me._ Honestly, I had wanted to spend more time with the dark Southern stranger in our group. I didn't date much in NY; mostly because boys were either afraid of my Dad or me. In fact, my last boyfriend was George. We split amicably knowing there was nothing more between us than "friends with serious make-out sessions." George was cute in a Shia LaBeouf sort of way. (I love _Transformers-_ favorite classic teen-action movie, ever!) Heathe was just amazingly good looking like the lead singer of _Last Seen_. I wondered if Heathe sang too.

"So New York?" Isa cued me.

"Oh right, New York. It's a big city. Truthfully, I didn't venture far from my school, my home, my friend's mom's art gallery, and the Pub."

"Pub? As in bar?"

I laughed. "Less bar more coffee house. They served alcohol but you had to be 21 and they were fairly strict on IDing. The best reason to go to the Pub was the bands and the coffee. _Grammercy Park, Orin, Last Seen, RLV,_ and _Cool Hand Mary_ all performed there whenever they were in the city. It was a small venue and at times you got to meet the artists."

"YOU'RE KIDDING? Did you meet Haven Ben?" I believe Isa was gushing; something I take she didn't do often by the boys' expression.

"Yes, I met Haven Ben a few times. _Orin_ played at least every three months. Oh and George, my friend, his dad was _Orin's_ manager. Haven is a very talented musician…"

"And…"

"And a complete ass." I laughed at Isa's crestfallen expression. "I'm sorry Isa. He's incredibly full of himself, total twit."

"He's still hot."

"Yes, he is. But _seriously_, other than the Pub I was too busy with other projects."

"What other projects?" Alex finally chimed in with a mysterious grin.

I glared at him playfully. "Oh you know crime stuff…"

"Sounds like fun. How does Neptune rate?" Heathe asked me.

"We'll see. So far I am hated by most of the 09ers, grounded, and working for the Keith Mars…and I totally spaced!" I exclaimed. "I met Veronica M. or Mars!"

"You're kidding?"

"No but no one is supposed to know that; so can we keep it on the down low?"

"She's here in town?" Alex's question was anything less than friendly. What did he _have against this chick?_

"Yeah, she is here for awhile. She shed a few lights on the case. Speaking of shop talk…" I turned my gaze towards Heathe and batted my eyelashes.

He gave a cheerful sigh. "Is tomorrow night good for you?"

"Splendid. Do I need to bring anything?"

"A vest…bulletproof for the 1000 questions my mother will ask you."

"Don't worry I give good parent."

"JAN!" Isa screeched.

"What? Well, besides the Kanes and Casablancas, most parents love me. I mean it. No worries."

Heathe pushed his chair away from the table. "If you're coming to dinner I better go home tell my parents so my mom and dad can scrub the place down. Bye ya'll."

"Bye." We echoed. Just as Heathe left, Isa excused herself too. Her parents were still a bit paranoid about the kidnappings and were on the way to pick her up- refusing to let her drive herself.

Then there were two. Alex and I looked at each other and I decided it was now or never. "You flinch every time I say her name."

"What are you talking about?" He responded coolly.

"When I first brought up Veronica M. or Mars…_whatever_… you flinched. When we were trying to find out what _really_ happened to Mr. Kane, Mrs. Casablancas and Echolls- you came up with her name."

"You figured it out." Alex finally replied- resigned that I now knew his secret.

"Your mother is Lizzie Manning-Guan. Your mother is Hannah Kane's biological aunt."

"You mean Faith…"

"What?"

"Hannah isn't her real name. She was born Faith Manning. Duncan Kane, with help from Veronica Mars, ran away with her when she was born. My mom and my Aunt Grace were left with nothing; no clue of where their sister's child went."

"I know."

"It gets worse. You know Meg died. You know Duncan left and then came back. He returned when he knew my grandparents were behind bars for good for child abuse. He returned, married and with a child in tow- Lilly Hannah Kane. Everyone calls her Hannah because no one really wants to associate the Kane princess with a murdered high school student. Duncan came back as a hero; saving Kane software. As a hero…"

"The Sheriff's department would gladly overlook the little pesky kidnapping charge. Duncan gets custody and no one is the wiser."

Alex merely nodded. His demeanor, still cool had softened under the relinquishing of the guarded family secret. "My mom and my aunt have tried on numerous occasions to see Hannah. To talk to her and tell her everything about her mom and her grandparents and why she never knew who they were but Duncan wouldn't allow it. He put on restraining order on both of them- forbidding contact with her. By the time she was old enough to make her own decision- she had chosen to completely ignore us. She wanted nothing to do with the Manning family and all it represented."

"She's your cousin. You go to the same school. You live in the same town."

"She pretty much ignores me and even my sister, who was editor before her. The only time I've ever heard her mention us was in a _really_ bad joke you will never hear me repeat."

"I'm guessing your mom and aunt pretty much blame Veronica for helping Duncan escape…"

"That and the fact my aunt Meg died in the first place. I don't need to tell you about the bus crash- you know that, too. My aunt Grace is kinder about the subject. Veronica did step-in and report my grandparents for the disgusting abuse they inflicted on her and my mom. But my mom, my mom remembers too well everything Veronica did to her sister, their family, and while she was here at school. My family doesn't love the Kanes but they don't have much love for the Mars either."

"I see."

"Maybe you do… Look, I don't resent Veronica. I don't know her. I'm not sure to care to either. I do resent Duncan Kane. I think he's arrogant and a hypocrite. I think my cousins would have been found sooner if he hadn't gotten involved. I think his money is guilt…and if that's the case, I don't want it."

Alex Guan was more complex than I had given him credit for being. He knew more about the darkness of Neptune than I had yet to come to know. I grew-up in a city that was a tragedy for crime, corruption and at times, war. Somehow, she always rose above it in my eyes. New York sat on a pedestal along with Keith Mars and his talented daughter. There were others, too.

Yet from Alex, I had no feeling that Neptune had risen from its struggles, secrets, and pain but only sunk lower and lower till it lay beneath the ground. Neptune and its darkness buried underneath a tombstone of its very own. The question- _whose name was on it?_


	13. Chapter 12

**AN: Disclaimer of various sorts located in previous Chapters. First, thank you to those who read, those who review, those who simply mock... please keep it up. Secondly, clarification, I am of the assumption the remaining Manning sisters lost all they had between Mum and Dad in prison for child abuse and their placement in foster care. Poor girls had went from riches to rags. Next, sorry about the shortness that is this chapter. Life is busy and this story is hard. Lastly, any notes or whatnot- please send my way. Enjoy at own risk!**

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* * *

****The Pipe Warehouse**

The smell was unbearable. It reeked of fifty year old chemicals, dead rats, sewer back-up and the stench of abandon. The Neptune Agricultural Pipe Warehouse was in the early forties and fifties an economic staple for the blue collared American in Neptune. Over five hundred men and women (Sadly, at times children…) were employed by the _Berger's Agricultural Pipe Company_. Here in the warehouse they stored and fixed pipes from across the nation that aided in the agricultural boom. Pipes used to move water to parched fields was the business and Neptune was proud of the "little" warehouse that could pay the dime.

The Warehouse stopped paying the dime around 1980 and had since been used for underground criminal activity, drug dealing, and the occasional overnight stay for the transients that traveled through Neptune. The city had wanted to tear the reeking warehouse down for nearly 20 years but the deeds belonged to an old miser who would not see the glory days of his wealth lost. He had just passed away a year ago and the city had the wrecking ball ready. In just three months, the warehouse would give way to fancy and luxury loft apartments for far more than a dime.

Right now, deep within the bottom floor of the warehouse, where the women workers carefully packaged the pipes was another package of sorts. It was an odd item in the room not quite belonging. It was a 7 ft by 9 ft freezer. It was running and the sound of its gentle hum went unnoticed by even the rats. The freezer was old and dented; most likely bought at a yard sale. It did however serve its purpose.

It kept them quiet.

No more cheering. No more games. No more flirting or teasing.

In neat little pieces the bodies of four missing cheerleaders sat tidy in the freezer. Their bodies frozen together and the smell hidden and decay prevented.

It was amazing what a dime bought.

**

* * *

****Newspaper **

Darn my brilliance!

I had uncovered not one mystery but two. I sat at my "designated" computer and sighed. (By "designated" I mean the fact Hannah Kane is still fairly pissed off at me and has put me on a computer on the other side of the room from my friends. Oh and she has assigned me the re-pavement of the school parking lot. I _don't_ like her.)

Here's where I am-Previously on our regularly scheduled program:

Veronica M. is Veronica Mars, daughter to famous P.I. Keith Mars. Keith Mars (Married to former Sheriff's Department secretary Inga…) is a famous private investigator who worked three major cases in his lifetime: the murder of Lilly Kane, the deaths and suicide of Cassidy Casablancas, and the death of Sheriff Lamb. He is responsible for the temporary downfall of the late Jake and Celeste Kane and for putting Aaron Echolls behind bars. Keith has turned down numerous bids for Sheriff and employs an old chum of Veronica's, Eli Navarro.

Eli Navarro was a reformed convict and former leader of Neptune's infamous biker gang, _The PCHers._ Eli Navarro is married to Carmen, a former classmate at Neptune. The two have three daughters: Anna, Bella, and Callie. Carmen is a nurse at Neptune County Hospital.

Veronica's other good friends include Wallace Fenell and Cindy "Mac" Mackenzie. Wallace Fenell, Mr. V.P. and all-around badass basketball coach remains in contact with Veronica. He's a graduate of Hearst University and father to seven year old son, Malachai. Wallace's wife, Jackie, another former classmate and acquaintance is a stay at home mom.

"Mac" married Dick Casablancas their senior year of college at Hearst. (That is a mystery best left unsolved.) They have a set of twins, Meredith and Michael. (Both are tolerable 09ers.) Mac works for Duncan Kane and was responsible for helping him raise the Kane name back to the level and status and glory it once knew. She doesn't speak to Veronica and apparently has issues with her. (Still a little grossed out about Coach Casablancas and Mac…aren't you?)

Duncan Kane was an ex-boyfriend of Veronica's and brother to Veronica's best friend-deceased, Lilly Kane. Duncan has a daughter from a one night stand with Meg Manning (Deceased aunt to Alex Guan…) and her name is the devil. (I mean, Hannah…) Duncan left Neptune with daughter in tow and didn't return till the death of his parents. He returned with a wife, Nichole, and a son- Scott. The new generation of Kane moved in and moved up. Duncan doesn't care for Veronica and for the obvious and not-so-obvious reasons.

Veronica dated Duncan's best friend, Logan Echolls. Logan once dated Lilly but lost her when his dad beat her to death after their affair. Logan moved onto Veronica and their relationship had a rocky start and ending according to what little has been said. Neither talk and Logan hates her with a fiery vengeance. As to why; who knows?

The mystery is: who is Veronica Mars and why does half the town of Neptune either hate her or love her? What is going on?

This mystery wouldn't have made it to my screen had it not been for the even bigger over-lying arch of the disappearance of four cheerleaders- one from Pan High School (Neptune's arch nemesis) and three from Neptune High. The only items recovered were their cars (No forcible entrance or exits…) and one piece of random jewelry. The girls have been gone for the exceeded amount of time most criminal experts allow for finding them alive. That's not to say it can't happen but I've seen it, heard it, and witnessed it too many times. My gut is telling me I'm not looking just for kidnapper but now a serial killer with a vendetta against pom-poms and Spirit Week. While I have the information on the three missing cheerleaders from Neptune I still need information from Pan.

This is what Coach Casablancas' class is for and my Hummer. Oh and a new student ID I produced myself today while Keiser Kane has me working at my own computer in my own little corner. (I finished the re-pavement piece five minutes ago. I did a similar assignment in fifth grade. All I had to do was pull up my online stored files, re-word it, and brilliance! What did I tell you?)

Tonight, I get to meet Heathe's family. I know I go there with a purpose but… is it wrong that a little piece of me hopes that the Southern hospitality extends to a little unmediated making out too? I am a multi-tasker, I just might be able to do both.

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**Pan High School**

_"America is the only country that went from barbarism to decadence without civilization in between." Oscar Wilde_

Hello, my name is August Ford. I am a new transfer to Pan High School. I am popular and cool and…a complete fake.

I am marveling at Pan High School. Where Neptune seems to the be the gate to prosperity and rubbing everyone's face in it- Pan remains a solid "normal" middle-class school. Sure, ya got your bullies and cliques but in the end it doesn't matter as much. Everyone here is in the same tax bracket and the only thing that separates one student from another is one's extracurricular activities. I like it.

I managed my way into Pan High School, to the front desk and to the administrative assistant to the Vice-Principal. (Okay, seriously, she looks like she could be our V.P.'s secretary- like they're cousins, identical cousins…) Vice-Principal Howard was definitely bought at Vice-Principal's-R-Us. This man is putty in my hands. I portray myself as the daughter of a working class father and para-pro mother who just moved from Omaha, Nebraska. I was a cheerleader there. I was a farm girl, too. I will fit in well at Pan.

Needless to say, Vice Principal Howard is my newest fan. He hands me a schedule and walks me to my homeroom class.

So, _this is public school_…

No upgraded computers. No up-to-date pretentious library. Lockers with stickers and graffiti everywhere. The bathrooms smell like bathrooms. And my homeroom teacher, Mrs. Kind, is one notch above being full on drunk for class.

As she nurses her hangover and merely mentions the "new girl" I sit at my desk.

"Hi."

I turn around to see what appears to be a handsome jock (Noted by his jersey…) who could possibly be sweet too. Did I just see a pig with wings?

"Hi." I smile back, remembering I am a cheerful farm girl from Nebraska.

"You're the new girl?"

"I guess so- not a lot of new kids 'round here?"

"No. And definitely none as pretty as you."

I blush. "Thanks. I guess the proper thing to do would be to introduce myself…"

"You're August Ford."

"How did you ever find that out?"

"Not a lot of new kids and I was in the office when you came in."

"Oh. Well, you know my name. What's yours?"

"Eric Howard."

"As in Mr. Howard's son?"

"Yeah, what can I say? I'm cursed." He laughed.

"I wouldn't call you cursed…" I laughed back. _Way to overtly flirt Jan_, I thought.

"Listen, why don't you sit with me and my friends at lunch today? We could use some new blood and everyone there is pretty cool."

That was it! Pan High School was an alternate universe of Neptune- here people invited you to sit with them at lunch. No judgment calls, no walking the line, no sizing you up by your zip code district. "I'd love to."

"Good, then it's a date."

"I guess so…"

I turned around. I was pleased with myself; pleased that I had pulled it off. Now I had to pull of lunch, any information about the missing cheerleader, and if I could- get the girl's file. And I had to do this all before 6th Period French. Although, I'd be lying if spending the entire day here wasn't appealing. Maybe just spending one day feeling like I wasn't Ponyboy in the _Outsiders_ didn't seem like a bad thing at all.

--------------

**Saenurts' Deli**

"One _Elena Rusa_, please." Veronica Mars replied, as she placed her order at Saenurts' Deli. She had been cooped up in the Mars home for nearly a week or more, staying away from prying eyes. It was 1 pm and the lunch rush was over. Most of the people that would have recognized her were gone. She could venture out for awhile and then return back to her hiding place.

Plus, she had been really craving one of these sandwiches. She had dreamed of them all the way from New York and D.C. She had tried several different variations but none had lived up to the reality.

Ironically, this is exactly how she felt about Neptune. She had lived all over the world. She lived in exciting places and did exciting things. Nonetheless, even though Neptune bore plenty of painful memories, no other place had lived up to it. Neptune was _her home_.

Too bad it was _his _home too, she thought as Duncan Kane walked in the door. She met his gaze as he entered the Deli. His immediate look was shock; then complete disdain. She didn't really expect anything less from him. In fact, she expected more. There was no away around it now, she was officially back. And the world would know.

Duncan strode behind her in the line. He placed his order and then focused on the menu board as he talked.

"What are you doing here, Veronica?"

"I was hungry. And you know how much I love the _Elena Rusa._"

"I meant here in Neptune…"

"Oh. I thought you knew. I have a Dad. He works and lives here…well, more lives now because I heard this rich billionaire guy paid to have him removed from his job. You know money in Neptune…"

"Veronica…"

"Listen, Duncan let's dismiss with the un-pleasantries. It's a waste. I don't have anything to say to you other than congratulations once again for mucking-up yet another case. Kudos, seriously. I am in Neptune because I have a break from work and so does Dad and I thought we'd play catch-up." By this time, Veronica was paying for her sandwich, for good measure she paid for Duncan's too. She turned to him, sack in hand. "No mistakes, Duncan this is probably the last time you'll see me but a word of advice- get over me. Get over me and over yourself and for once let justice work in this town rather than stopping it."

"Once again, you are completely wrong Veronica…"

"I know, like father like daughter---or in your case, like father like son…" She turned and left on that quip. Outside she breathed again.

Neptune was home but what was the other part- you can't ever go home.


	14. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: So I saw Rob Thomas' premise for the next season of VM and the man is a genius and I wish I had anything to do with that but I don't.**

**AN: SORRY it took so long for an update but work, three plays, and a trip home later and ANOTHER move and I finally got my inspiration back. THANK YOU! Thank you to all who have read and reviewed and alerted this story- this chapter is short but once I finish one more part I will have lots of posting. Also on a social note: WGA remain my heroes! Their writing is what I am sure inspires many of us... keep up the fight! **

**Now back to our regularly scheduled fanfic...**

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****Mitchell House**

Pan High School was a good idea; just not a great one. The information I got was standard and repetitive. She was a cheerleader beloved by the school and her friends- who could only tell me she had recently started seeing a new guy from Neptune. Her friends mentioned she kept mum on who the guy was to spare her dear ex- which turned out to be my new BFF Eric Howard.

Eric _did_ exhibit all the appropriate emotions when discussing his missing ex-girlfriend. Beside, ex-boyfriend/VP's son's killing girls is _**so**_ last year. Seriously, I was nowhere closer other than the small lead that perhaps the only thing that connected all these girls was Neptune and maybe a new boyfriend.

I reviewed the facts as I stood outside the door to the Mitchell house. Reviewing case facts calms my nerves- far healthier and more legal than smoking. The door eventually opened and I came face to face with Sheriff Elizabeth Mitchell. She was anything but intimidating and bore an odd resemblance to that neurotic woman doctor on that old show _Grey's Anatomy_, that my mom made me watch re-runs of with her. _Okay January, hold onto your neurosis for one night and get it together, _I told myself. I extended my hand and was pulled into a motherly hug and into the living room.

"You have a lovely home, Sheriff Mitchell." I replied in my best Stepford impression. Not that their home wasn't lovely, because it was. It was your classic Americana homespun motif; designed with craft fair finds and small town antiques.

"Thank you January but please call me Liz, tonight. I have heard quite a bit about you from Heathe. And of course, I have had the pleasure of meeting your father."

"Yeah Dad's sure something…" I half mumbled, wondering what he might have told her that I would later need to deny.

"He told me you are quite the crime fight yourself. He has an article framed in his office of your piece on the homicide and kidnappings. He's very proud. I have to say solving a case like that is very impressive for a young woman your age. Have you thought about law enforcement?"

_Yeah, I'm sure the Academy would love a recruit who pays off her sources, DOES NOT follow the rules, and tends to put themselves in danger before actually thinking things through. Sign me up NOW! _I thought lightly. I was however a little taken back that Dad had my piece framed and bragged. I never thought I was the kid he'd brag on.

"No, ma'am. I love writing about the crimes. I love getting the scoop and sharing the story with others too much."

"I can respect that." She smiled warmly. She looked to the clock and then to the hall as if expecting someone. "I'm sorry, we will be eating shortly but Chris went to pick-up Heather, Heathe's little sister from karate and Heathe ran to the store for me. Once they all return we'll sit down to eat. But…since they aren't here why don't we take care of business? Heathe said you had questions to ask me about the Case."

She motioned for me to sit down in a large chair and she took her place on the overstuffed couch. I grinned and wondered how to play this. I pulled out a small notebook and pen from my purse. My best way of getting info from this woman I assumed would be to be unassuming.

"First, let me thank you for answering my questions. I really just want to keep my fellow students informed about their friends and family and how the case is going."

"I completely understand."

"Alright…how long was it before you found the first girl missing?"

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I knew the answer to this question- any idiot who could read a paper knew the answer but it is always best to start at the beginning. She began with all the major details: the time of disappearances, who called them in, the general crime scene, the work with other local authorities, and what little connections the crimes all shared. She also pointed out the painfully obvious that the statistical chances these girls were alive were slim to none.

"Thank-you. Now I understand all of the young women who are missing are middle to lower middle class, is that correct?"

"Yes, but we strongly believe that is just a coincidence and not a common denominator."

Was she serious? _Statistically speaking_, usually young women who are kidnapped or abducted from this economical bracket are done so because there is less money, power and influence behind finding them. Next question.

"Okay. May I ask why did Mr. Kane and Mrs. Casablancas offer so much reward? It would seem to me they don't know these girls other than their children attended the same school as most of them. Even then, these girls did not run in the same circles as their children."

"I believe Mr. Kane and Mrs. Casablancas are simply backing the communities in which they employ many people. They, like other members of the community, want to believe Neptune is a safe and excellent place to raise a family."

"I see." Actually what I saw was a complete line of crap. Members of the community? Neptune a safe place? Was this woman really believing this fairy tale? "You mentioned that at each crime scene a piece of jewelry that belonged to the victims was found, is that correct?"

"Yes. Every piece of jewelry we found was hanging in one or another from the rearview mirror."

"Has a criminal profiler given an analysis of what motivation this might be?"

"Neptune doesn't have access to a criminal profiler of that caliber."

"Are you sure? From what I understand, Dr. Russ Kerson from San Diego was willing to analyze the crime scene- what happened?"

Okay, I had stopped playing coy and _Liz_ knew it.

"I understand you have talked with Keith Mars and know that his services were "let go" from the case. I am taking a wild guess here and I think you already know the answer to your question. Dr. Kerson is a good friend of Mr. Mars and when we let him go he took all his forensics and profilers with him. What you need to understand is we will get much farther in this case with leads from the community prompted by the generous donations of the Kane Corporation than Mr. Mars and his back-handed P.I. ways of obtaining information."

Gloves were off.

"Of course, and _Neptune is really a safe place to live_."

**

* * *

****Mitchell House- Dining Room Table**

His dad was a plastic surgeon. Not the kind that makes a lot of money but the ones you find in the strip malls. His dad was passive-aggressive, balding, and leering at me.

And I thought my parents were weird?

So I guess I should re-cap the dinner so far. Once _Liz_ had obtained my juvenile record and a complete family history- which was spotless for the most part- we patronized each other the rest of the conversation. Dinner had been cooked by Liz and was frozen lasagna, frozen garlic bread, and store-bought-home-made apple pie. Heathe's dad, Chris, had returned with Heathe's "precocious" sister Heather just as I had finished setting the table. The man that entered was not who I expected to be the father of the magnificent looking boy I had been drooling over of late. He was as my Mom and Dad would politely say a "Uncle Roy." Uncle Roy had been my father's uncle who had a thing for women of the red light district. Oh, and by women I mean men pretending to be women. So every time a certain family member or acquaintance was mentioned that everyone should be leery of- he/she was an Uncle Roy. Heathe's dad---way Uncle Roy- and Heathe and his mom knew it.

As we sat down for dinner, Roy…I mean Chris only asked me one question- was I a cheerleader? Strange and disturbing and total cause for me adding him to my list of suspects. Dear Liz had played it off as concern for his son's new friend. _Sure, I bet he's concerned the moment he takes my pom-poms…ewwww._ The rest of the night Liz and Heathe and Heather monopolized the conversation and Chris merely leered. The only pause was when I asked why they had moved so far away from the good ole' south. The answer I got was political at best. By that I mean, never really answering my question but alluding vague and totally avoiding the truth. My guess, daddy dearest did something to embarrass the clan and they hightailed it to a place far far away from the gossip and dirt.

Maybe the whole family needed to be on my list.

Overall, the dinner was a complete waste. I ate my food…choked down the food and was more than thrilled when Heathe excused us to take a tour of the house. The tour was three seconds before we ended up in his room.

Get your mind out of the gutters, kiddos.

"I'm sorry."

"About what?"

"My dad. He's just…"

"Different?" I was trying to help.

"Disgusting."

"Okay…" Where do you go from there? I looked very closely at Heathe. Amongst the obvious cuteness, in the room I noticed a shade of darkness when he mentioned his father. There was no love there but that happens, right? But was this more than teenage hate or shame?

Heathe sat down on the edge of his bed, I followed him. He looked towards the wall. "You've been a good sport."

"Heathe, seriously, it was okay. Did you forget who you're talking to? I'm the girl that managed to piss off the entire 09er royalty and a major film and television producer. He was drunk, too. This dinner has a long way to go before taking place as the worst one yet…"

The boy turned to me and the darkness had suddenly subsided. He smiled brilliantly and gave me a soft kiss on the cheek and a murmur of thanks. We sat and talked for fifteen minutes more about nothing before he took me to my car. Liz had been cordial when saying good night, not appreciating her son and a new girl alone in his room, I guess. Heather was apparently my new best friend. Chris shirked in the background with his head down as if while I were gone he had been punished like a dog.

I drove home knowing what I had to do the next day- the Mitchell clan had to be investigated, no matter how hot I thought the son was.

**

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****Pipe Warehouse**

It had grown colder in the Warehouse.

It had grown louder in the Warehouse.

A simple passerby might have heard the faint sounds and rhythms of a hack saw. But who would pass by the eyesore at night? It was in the bad part of town, _the really bad part._ It seemed lately that not even transients would reside there. Neptune myth had been the Fighting Fitzpatricks, notorious corrupters of the law and occasional murderers, were terrified of the abandon building.

But not everyone was scared. No, for one person, the place was a respite from the noise of the day that filled his head and home. Quiet peace and nothing but the music of the saw to ease his soul.

Pieces worked much better in the freezer. Pieces allowed him to dismember them from his conscious and mind. Cut into pieces as they had done to his life. It made all logical sense to him. In the logic, he was coming to a new conclusion. A dangerous conclusion that someone knew his secret. Someone was much too close to him and the pieces that fit together to make the mystery whole. He had tried but not hard enough.

As the saw sliced into the last of them, he decided the freezer could fit one more. One more and then it would be over.

Or till they started cheering again.


	15. Chapter 14

**Title: Be My Escape**

**Rating: PG-ish**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Rob Thomas, CW, and whoever else are in full rights of this amazing show. I do not own the quotes or songs. I do however own a few characters and a very large supply of chocolate covered cherries- oh and Season Three of _House, M.D._!**

**Summary: The story is in the future-almost 20 years-and takes place after the events of S2. The rest, well read and find out. Reviews are necessary since this is my first attempt at VM fanfic.**

**A/N: This is a long chapter- thank goodness for Christmas break! I am but a few short parts and polishings away from finishing this entire story. Be ready for rapid updates. (I hope.) To all who are still reading and actually like this story, thank you- really thank you so much. I do love reviews- the good and the bad. Other notes: I don't know if Bon Jovi or John Lennon's first son have kids but suspend and believe they do. And for those of you who haven't figured it out, confirmation is in this story about January's paternity. I guess I didn't mean for that to be a total mystery but there's so much more to tell on the back plot of it. Stay tuned readers and Happy Holidays!**

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****Newspaper**

"So?"

"The facts that tie the disappearances together are these: All of the missing girls were cheerleaders. All of the missing girls came from middle to lower class families. All of the missing girls had begun dating someone new from the Neptune area- or so he told them. All of the missing girls did not struggle. And lastly, in each car there was a piece of jewelry each girl wore left in the driver's rearview mirror. No fingerprints. No DNA. Worst of all no clues to where they might be."

"Is there…"

I held my breath. I didn't want to answer that question. I didn't want to tell them that right now, this was no longer a missing persons but a serial murder case. I knew that it had been too long- not impossibly long- but long enough that the girls were dead. A serial abductor versus a serial killer was an entirely different game, as well. An abductor keeping young girls alive could sell them, hold them, torture them but had enough "peace of mind" to keep them alive. A serial killer could have no motive other than to simply kill.

Mind you, there was an obvious pattern but to a killer it could be nothing more than mere coincidence. How do I explain to them that their friends and family might simply be victims of random violence and death? It wasn't my job or place as a friend. This is what parents were for- nevertheless, as a reporter I had every duty to tell the truth and give the facts; how detailed would be left my discretion and ethical codes.

"There is always a chance. Look at the Elizabeth Smart case. She was abducted for a substantial amount of time and found alive. But as a reporter and a person who has grown-up within a "crime fighting" family, this feels less like an abduction case every moment. It feels like a multiple homicide case."

Alex turned his eyes down. For some reason, out of all of them his reaction shook me. And I am not a girl who gets shaken or stirred, for that matter. Why did the sweet computer geek nerve me? It wasn't like he was a hottie like Heathe, although he was unfortunate looking either. His eyes were green- this amazing shade of green that changed with every word he said. He was soft-spoken but he didn't waste his words. He didn't waste anything. How could I just tell him I thought his cousins were dead? Worse yet, how could I even tell him that this didn't look to be a pretty murder where the bodies were found nice and neat in make-shift graves? I couldn't. I wouldn't. I was still short more information than I cared to admit.

"Listen, not even Keith Mars has any great leads. I am sorely lacking key pieces to this puzzle. There's a lot I could be wrong about. I need more information."

"_On which case_?" Isa asked poignantly.

I looked at her, met here eye to eye, and I sighed. "Both. I am nowhere closer to discovering out why people are the way they are here and why this affecting the _Cheerleading Case_ as much as it is. I just need more information and I am tapped." With that, I turned away from the group and absent-mindedly worked on my short assigned piece for the paper about the dangers of using one's cell phone and driving in the parking lot. This is hard for me. Back in New York I knew where the information was and had it handed to me on a silver platter. Here in Neptune, you had to know how to play the games to get what you wanted and even then, there were no guarantees. Reading about and learning from Keith Mars had taught me that much. All I knew was I had to figure these cases out- something in my gut- tells me that it just might be life and death.

**-------------------------------------------**

**Mars Investigations**

Veronica glared at the computer screen. It was an e-mail from her agent/best friend Shiva. In a little over two months, the first complete collection of Veronica M.'s photographs in book form would be published. Along with the book, the publisher would like an interview with Veronica to be placed as a forward. She had the option of choosing an interviewer she wanted- she could choose Oprah (Who was an avid fan…) if she wanted. The truth is she didn't want to be interviewed at all.

Maybe it was the years spent as the one behind the camera and the stories, or just plain selfishness. She didn't want anyone to know her life, her dirty little secrets. She had enough of those and being in Neptune only reminded her they had not gone away.

She was debating on how to respond to the e-mail when January Grant walked in. Veronica looked up from the computer and watched the young girl for a moment. Her stomach began to knot. _Weird,_ she thought. There was something ironically familiar about the girl in how she walked and threw her bag on the beaten couch in the lobby. January had not noticed Veronica's attention and merely smiled at the sight of her.

"I really thought Neptune was going to suck. This is still very cool that I walk into Keith Mars' office and can actually talk to Veronica Mars. I feel like a stoner- not that I know what that feels like…"

"Hey January." Veronica responded, returning the smile. "What can I do for ya?"

"Your dad's not in, by chance is he?"

"He should be in five- if you can wait."

"I can. Who needs math anyways?"

"You have Her' Glochen?"

"Hail!"

"They must make them really strong in the mother country."

"And indestructible, too."

"How's your case going?"

A frown moved across January's face. "Not as well as I would have liked. There are too many connections here. Two of the kidnapped girls are daughters of Grace Manning, cousins to Duncan Kane's daughter Hannah. However, from what I understand Duncan let Hannah have nothing to do with her cousins. In school, the girls don't even speak. A good friend of mine…Alex, Hannah's his cousin too. She baffles me. Here's a girl kidnapped by her father after her mother dies and believes her father is perfect…"

"That's because no matter what Duncan Kane does- _he is the golden boy_."

"Yeah, I got that feeling too. Like he could have someone knocked off and the town would erect a statue in his honor."

Veronica gave a wry smile. "How'd you know?"

"How'd I know…you're kidding me?!? Who?"

"Rumor…AND I STATE _**RUMOR**_, Duncan hired his dad's personal security C.W. to kill Aaron Echolls."

January leaned back in the chair and smiled too. "All's fair in murder and cover-up…"

"Especially in Neptune." The voice of Keith Mars chimed in. He gave a wide grin to the two young women. "And what do I oh this honor Miss Grant?"

January hopped out of her chair. "Well, you're going to have to trust me."

Keith quirked his eye and gave a nod to Veronica. "Choose a different line, kid. That one's been taken."

Veronica merely smiled back at her father.

"Okay, you're going to have do something that you might not like but I have a hunch on?"

"Better."

"How well do you know the Mitchell's?"

"As in Sheriff?"

"That'd be the one."

"She's old money. Her husband is a plastic surgeon, I think. Son in high school and a daughter in junior high. Nothing outrageous, _why?_"

"I went over to their house for dinner, as you know. And…"

"And what?"

"Doctor Mitchell creeped me out. He's a plastic surgeon but from what I've heard he downgraded when they moved. Why would he do that? I also noticed he doesn't speak unless spoken to in the house which is rarely. Oh! And it appears his son is completely embarrassed and revolted by him."

"And that makes you think they're worthy of investigating? I need more January."

"Dad, think about it. January's right. Why would a high class plastic surgeon and his old money wife leave a cushy life in the small town South for a small notorious town known for NOT keeping sheriff's alive in California- on the other side of the country?" Veronica piped in.

Keith leaned against his doorway and crossed his arms. This was a sure sign he was considering the argument the girls' presented. "You want me to check out him or the entire family."

"I think you should check the entire family. Maybe there's a reason why they are the way they are. There's definitely domestic problems."

"Alright, I'll do it. What information did you get?"

"Not much. She's "bought" through and through. Every piece of jewelry was hanging from the review mirror. I'm sure you could run the significance of that by a profiler. Off hand, I'd say that the jewelry is not just a parlor trick but for the kidnapper is a big freak'n neon sign to his issues."

"What makes you think it's a guy?"

"Statistically speaking, what makes you think it's not?"

Keith looked down and back at January. "Their information is going to be harder to get. Might take a few days-till then January, keep your head low and stay safe."

She took in his seriousness and gave a small nod. The nod made Keith shake his head in a bizarre type of déjà vu. He'd seen the nod before, hadn't he? Where? He took a quick shot in his head of January standing near the desk and Veronica. There was no reason for the feeling but he did it anyway. It was that instinct of his- the instinct that made him _so good_ at his job. With that, January grabbed her bag and gave quick good-byes to Veronica and himself as Eli entered the door.

"So I see our favorite amateur P.I. is in? Whada' she want?"

Keith decided to keep the investigation to himself. "Just to report on her dinner at the Mitchell's. Nothing we don't know, really… You get the bail jumper?"

"Yeah, these guys must be get dumber, this one was too easy. And V, you're in my seat." Eli smirked.

"I own this seat _Weevil_. You're just borrowing it."

"Yeah, yeah. What do you think of your dad's groupie?"

"She's sure going to give Wallace a run for his money."

"Giving your dad one, too."

"I see that- but I think she'll fit in just fine." Veronica stopped a moment and grinned. "Just fine."

**Cups of Stone**

**Round Table**

No.

I could have said "_No."_ I could have said a lot of things actually with that "no" but I didn't. I let Scott Kane goat me, dare me into singing…well, blackmail me into singing.

_Damn my curiosity._

I was content simply sitting in Cups of Stone, drinking my chai tea, and delving deeper into conversation with Heathe and his blue eyes. (Good grief, he's so hot!) But enough about his hotness, it was another heat that got me into this mess.

So there I was drinking my chai tea, minding my own business, when I catch Scott Kane, sister- Hannah and the twins in tow, sitting down in a booth in the corner. Scott had a mysterious grin on his face. A grin that said, "I've got a secret you need to know." I tried to ignore the smile, the grin and continue my happy time with Heathe, Isa and Alex.

I _tried real hard_.

Three minutes later I had moved to the bar to buy another drink of caffeine I did not need. It was less than shocking when Scott came up behind me; still grinning.

"You rang?"

"How's the case going?"

"How do you think its going?" I asked in a tone of disdain. He _knew_ how the case was going and that's why he had me up here.

"Listen, I have information for you…"

I turned and faced him eye to eye. I placed my hand on my hip and leaned against the counter. "What's _that_ going to cost me?"

He just kept smiling. "I heard you have a talent. And as it so happens, tonight is open mike night."

I swept back towards the counter and clutched it for life. _How did Scott Kane, sadistic prince of the 09ers, find out about my guitar?_ Didn't anyone respect confidentiality laws? "How do you know I have any talent?" I grimaced through clutched teeth.

He gave a short laugh. "Your mother. She was "bragging" to my mom about how you spent years taking lessons, played in the school band, sung a talent show with your little friends…"

Of course, it was my Mom. "Mommy Dearest" had evidently told Nichole Kane that I was a guitar and singing virtuoso in hopes to make me sound better than Hannah- you know boost my cred that I was by far superior even though I had a pennant for getting into trouble . _Nice try, Mom_ I thought bitterly. I unclenched my fists and teeth and turned back around. "First, those little friends of mine happen to be Stella-daughter of Jon Bon Jovi, and Harper, grandson of John Lennon. Second, how do I know the information is worth it? And…lastly, I am _very good _at many things. Take your pick and I'll do it but like I said- only if I know the information is worth anything at all. Which, I seriously doubt."

My bravado had kicked in overdrive. All I needed to do was snap my fingers in his face and I would have had the entire attitude one needs to be a first class…you get my point. He stepped back, a little, surprised I think by my reverse challenge. He shrugged. "I have two copied files of two of the missing girls which were given to my father to give to his own private investigators along with _their_ notes. While they aren't "Keith Mars" they are highly trained and skilled and productive at what they do." He then pointed to the table where a bag sat and from the edge of the bag peered two file folders.

Call me easy. Call me curious. Call me an idiot, because before I knew it I agreed. The Cups of Stone had a house guitar they lent to last minute performers. Scott practically ran to his table and told the rest of the group. I went to the MC for the night and signed my name down. I would be "on" in five minutes.

_Crap._

I rushed back to my table and downed Isa's water. She gave a blank and confused stare.

"_Yeah_, I'm an information whore. I just agreed to sing for two files on the case from Scott Kane. I will be playing guitar and singing. All I need you three to do is shut up, clap very loudly if no one else does, and then be ready to run when I am finished. Got it?" I finally looked up.

There were no words, except from Alex. The confusing coolness he possessed continued to baffle me. What was he seeing or hearing that I wasn't?!? I had pegged the Computer Geek wrong because something about the way he spoke and the look in his eyes chilled and thrilled me. "You'll be good." And with that I gulped the last of my coffee and went to tune the house guitar and hope to God this wasn't a really cruel Carrie-esque trick. I glanced up- just to make sure there were no buckets of pig's blood.

The Cups of Stone was packed, of course. But I noticed Keith Mars immediately. Keith and Veronica Mars and Weevil were all sitting at a corner booth- slightly hiding- to revel in my ultimate sacrificial humiliation. This night could have not gotten any worse. Slowly, I trudged up to the stage and picked up the ordinary acoustic guitar and sat down on the stool. I adjusted the mike awkwardly and finally looked up into the bright shining stage light.

_Always look behind them to who you really want to sing to- see that person- sing that song._ The words of my music professor ran through my head like an old theme song. I always knew that person she talked about. It was always to the same person, or persons- my _real _parents; that is who I sang to. I imagined them sitting in a corner listening to everything I wanted to tell them but never would be able to say. Here on the stage I could sing it. I gently tuned the guitar and spoke.

"My name is January Grant and the song I am going to sing tonight was written by Brandi Carlile. It's called _The Story_. And here goes nothing…" And I began a song I had sung so many times; each time hoping it would be different.

_All of these lines across my face,_

_tell you the story of who I am._

_So many stories of where I've been._

_And how I got to where I am._

_But these stories don't mean anything,_

_when you got no one to tell them to-_

_it's true- I was made for you._

_I climbed across the mountain tops._

_Swam all across the ocean blue._

_I crossed all the lines and broke all the rules,_

_and baby, I broke them all for you._

_Oh because even when I was flat broke,_

_you made me feel like a million bucks-_

_You do. I was made for you._

_You see the smile that's on my mouth,_

_It's hiding the words that won't come out._

_All of our friends who think that I'm blessed,_

_they don't know my head is mess._

_No, they don't know who I really am,_

_and they don't know what I've been through-_

_like you do. I was made for you._

My fingers ran the chords as if I were a mechanical music machine. I didn't need to think about what I was playing or even the words I sang. It didn't matter. I could do nothing but think that I would never know- no one would ever know- who I really was. Years of hiding my secret, years of playing along with my parents and family, years of just resigning myself to being a "castaway" had taken its toll in my life. I couldn't even bring myself to say it out loud- to say that I was abandon by my biological parents completely. No one wants to admit they've ever been abandon; not even kick-ass teenage girls who have everything going for them.

_All of these lines across my face,_

_tell you the story of who I am._

_So many stories of where I've been._

_And how I got to where I am._

_But these stories don't mean anything,_

_when you got no one to tell them to-_

_it's true- I was made for you._

_Well, baby it's true, I was made for you. _

I finished the song, played my last chord and looked into the audience. The stunned silent audience…and I am ready to dive off the stage and out the local exit till the claps and applause started. People got to their feet. I could hear Isa, Alex, and Heathe hooting in the corner. Keith and Weevil were both grinning and applauding. Even Scott had managed to accolade my song. It was the reaction of Veronica Mars that puzzled me. She remained seated, looking past me and totally oblivious to everyone else in the room. I had embarrassed myself in front of my hero. The thought didn't last long, as Alex, Isa, and Heathe began a chant of "Encore!" which was joined by half the people in the room.

**Cups of Stone**

**Booth in the Back**

People sang songs all the time. She'd heard a million of them. She'd seen rock stars, folk singers and music legends play. Every song she knew and every song she hummed or sang never brought her to knees.

Except this one.

It couldn't be her.

It just couldn't.

_But don't fool yourself Veronica Mars,_ her inner voice warned tenaciously, _only your kid could find you and never know it. Only you could meet her and not realize what was right in front of your face-she is your little girl. How stupid are you Mars?_

--------------------------------------

**Mars' House**

**Veronica's Old Room**

"_Honey I'm home!"_

"_Must you do that __**every time**__ you walk in the door?"_

"_Yes, I must." Logan Echolls replied as he gave his adorable wife a sweet lingering kiss. "Where's Maggie?"_

"_Detention." Veronica Echolls responded, as she returned to the kitchen to continue the dinner she had just begun preparing._

"_Again? For what?" Logan asked, slightly exasperated. _

"_I think it was for pretending to be the School Interim Superintendent on the phone in order to obtain information from Principal Hawn."_

"_It's __**amazing**__ how well our daughter has managed to follow in your footsteps."_

_Veronica faced her husband with Ginsu knife in hand, "Listen Logan, the last time she did detention it was for helping Scott and Meredith and Michael place the Principal's car on the flag pole. A stunt I believe you pulled our junior of high school, if I'm right?"_

_Logan grinned. Maggie Lynn Echolls was in no doubt her parents' child. She'd been visiting Vice-Principal Fennell since she started Neptune- no surprise to anyone who knew Logan or Veronica. _

"_Is your dad coming for supper?"_

"_No, he's helping the Department with a case and he thinks he has a lead."_

"_The priorities in your family…" Logan said, shaking his head. _

"_Yeah, that whole crime fighting thing is getting a bit old isn't it? I mean my dad's a P.I. and I'm the Sheriff and I am married to the Mayor. We gotta do something about this Logan, we've become upstanding citizens. Let's go stake out a hotel, find a scandal, or OOOOH we could break into Duncan's house."_

_Logan laughed. "Darling, we have the keys to Duncan's house. What fun would that be?"_

_Veronica set down her knife and walked over to Logan. She wrapped her arms around his neck, having to slightly tiptoe to do so. She gave him a petulant grin. "You are absolutely no fun since you started taking this mayor thing seriously."_

_He kissed her forehead. "You're no fun since you became Sheriff."_

_She pulled him closer and began to kiss him as if they were teenagers again and standing on a hotel balcony. _

"_Could you guys refrain from the PDAs till after my bedtime or you know, I graduate high school?" Maggie groaned as she walked into the kitchen._

"_We could but where would the fun be!" Logan told his daughter as he slowly pulled away from his wife, who returned to her chopping. "Sooooo…how's Wallace?"_

_Maggie rolled her eyes as she flipped through her mail. "He's fine. Sends his love."_

"_Maggie…"_

"_Dad…"_

"_You got some 'splain'n to do."_

"_Fine. I made a phone call to Principal Hawn pretending to be Mrs. Grousch asking her why the basketball team was being subjected to drug tests every other week. Turns out one of the players was busted two weeks ago by the Principal with E. He then proceeded to tell her the entire team was in on the deal."_

"_Hmmmm…that's strange. The Department hasn't heard anything about it."_

"_That's because the kid they busted was Martin Yale, Senator Yale's son. Principal Hawn is getting new tennis courts and a gym if she keeps this under wraps and manages to "liberate" Martin from the charges. She ordered the testing to see if Martin is telling the truth."_

"_And…"_

"_He's lying. No way, the team is that smart to have a drug ring or Wallace is that dumb not to know what's going on."_

"_Awww. Well, it looks like the Sheriff will be visiting her favorite school."_

"_Wallace was hoping you would."_

"_It's amazing how our family bonds." Logan quipped as he handed plates to his daughter to set the table. "I mean who would've thought we'd be sitting down for a meal together even after Veronica gave you up for adoption and told me you were dead."_

Veronica set-up in her bed, sweat drenching her body. A nightmare, a dream- it felt real, though. It seemed easy to be a working mom with a working husband and a daughter in high school. It seemed easy to be happy loving family.

What had she done?

---------------------

**Fennell House**

"Look V, I love you like a sister but you are going to have to explain to me right now- why in the hell did you drag me out of bed at 2 in the morning?"

Veronica wiped the tears away from her eyes again. She cried all the way over to Wallace's and had barely managed to calm down enough to ask him to come outside and talk. She took a deep breath. "Wallace, I think January Grant is my daughter." There she said it. She should have felt better. She should have felt a certain kind of relief at finally saying what she'd been avoiding since late last night. She didn't. All she felt was the overwhelming guilt resurface once more and flood her eyes and chest.

"WHAT?"

"Wallace, please… you know me. You've known me longer than anyone. Do you really think I would be here if I didn't really believe it?"

Wallace paused for a moment and opened his eyes to his friend. Veronica looked worse than he'd ever seen her. _Ever._ She had been crying and upset. He took his coat and placed it around her, and pulled her to the curb to sit down on.

He _had known_ her forever. He'd known her hunches weren't just hunches but usually right-on-the-money-100-true-realities. No one had as many hunches be right as this girl. He gave it thought. January did bear an odd resemblance to Veronica and if you added Logan- even weirder. The first time he met her, he thought of Veronica. He talked to Keith and Weevil and both of them had the same thought too. But could it be that easy? You give-up your daughter, thinking you'll never see her again, and she moves to your home town and picks-up where you left off---that only happened in shows on The CW or late night movies, right?

Veronica met Wallace's eyes and the truth hit Wallace smack in the face. _"Damn_…" Was all he could muster.

"Wallace, I need to know for sure. I need her D.N.A.- I have a friend who works in lab in San Diego and promised I could get the results in a matter of hours if I got to her before Friday."

"What do you need me to do?"

"Call her into your office. Offer her something to drink. Make sure she takes it and drinks and then make sure she leaves the can or glass behind. Put it in bag and call me."

They were at it again. She needed a favor and he readily complied. Of course, he owed her. He always owed her. She saved his life and reputation his first week in Neptune. She continued saving him even from across the world. She was the one who told him to "get over" Jackie or go find her. Fortunately for him, Veronica knew exactly where he needed to look. He owed her happiness- the happiness he had. "Alright V, you got it." He replied wrapping his arms around her.

This time, he didn't even make her say please.

**_TBC..._**


	16. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything-thus the show and all of its characters belong to the proper authorities. **

**A/N: Okay, first off- wow, the reviews. I am so amazed people are still reading this and liking/maybe loving this story. Reviews for this story rank right under coffee as far as Things I'm Addicted To and Favorite Things Of All Time. Next, when reading the following please note that during French class the italics are to be understood that January and Isa are speaking French again, the scenes with the Grant House and Kane House are occuring at the very same time, and I made a wild guess as to Lynn Echolls full name. (I tried hard to find any reference but there were limited returns...) Lastly, I only have a few parts left remaining...including the Epilogue which oddly enough has been written for several months- the "getting there" is the hard part and practically killing me. Once more, with even more feeling, thank you for the reviews! Keep reviewing the good, bad and ugly.**

**Ella**

**NOW enjoy!**

**

* * *

****Vice Principal's Office**

Oh, what wrath of God hath I called down to land myself once again in the Vice Principal's office?!? WHY GOD?!?

Seriously, I should be an actress, I thought. Here I was sitting in the VP's office for the third time…this week. I don't think the other two times count since I was skipping Coach Casablancas' class and had got caught. I mean its gym/health class. If I wanted to be healthy, I'd join a club. I'd hire a trainer. I'd join a sport's team. But as far as I was concerned my athleticism was bound to running from crazy parolees, the law, and at times, _both_. Or chasing the police to follow a lead- _does that count?_

Mr. VP Fenell walked in with a slight grin- was that a grin? What did this grin mean? Was it the grin of "Look who's in trouble again…" or the grin of "We've just awarded you a full-ride out of Neptune and back to New York…" or perhaps the grin of "You're doomed. We're all doomed."? He walked over to a small table in the corner of his office- under it was a small fridge he opened up.

This wasn't like a drug test thing, was it? Because, _really_, I may pull some stupid crap as my parents' say but I'm not that dumb. He pulled out two sodas and handed one to me. I opened the soda and began to drink. I wasn't particularly thirsty but I figured it's what polite people do when offered drinks from their Vice-Principals. He opened his and began to drink as well.

"I understand you met the infamous Veronica Mars."

I shook my head. He wanted to talk about me meeting Veronica- SERIOUSLY?!? Alright, I'll humor him. "Yes, I did. She's still somewhat of my hero."

"She was everyone's hero." He muttered under his breath. He looked back to me and took another sip of his drink, which I mimicked. "You know Veronica is a good friend."

"I got that. The photos kind of clued me in and the fact you both graduated Neptune together and you both attended Hearst for awhile too."

"You know how we became friends?"

I shook my head and took another sip of the soda still confused why the VP was playing share-time with me.

"I got taped to the flag pole by Weevil's gang. She cut me down. She got me out of their "bad graces" and stood by me ever since."

"You got taped to the flag pole?"

"Yeah… let's just say it was the PCHers' way of handling problems. You got taped and below you- you were tagged for whatever offense you had committed against them. Me- I was a supposed snitch. Till V bailed me out…"

"Um…wow Mr. Fennel…" I stuttered, 'cause really what do you say to that?

"I'm telling you this because I need you to understand the Mars family mean a lot to me. I wouldn't want to see any of them hurt."

"As I mentioned earlier I worship at their feet so I don't see where this would be a problem…"

"That's what I thought. Good." He spoke distinctly, as if reassuring himself of something.

There was a very long awkward silence as I took three more sips of the soda and set the drink on the table near my chair. "Is there anything else?"

"How's the newspaper?"

"I think you know the answer to that- Hannah Kane hates me and I have been relegated to every trite and ridiculous article she can think of to give me. I'm still working on the _Cheerleading_ case and hope that will break me out of her "shit" box. We'll see…" I shrugged. No need to lie to the VP- they always know everything anyways.

"If there are any problems January, please come and see me."

"Sure, thanks. Can I….uh….go?"

"Yeah, yeah. You can go. Have Miss Daily give you a pass to your next class."

I began to pick up my can and toss it but he stopped me. "Don't worry about the can January- we recycle them. All proceeds go to…go to the Art Club."

"Sure." I replied and grabbed my bag and left.

I never saw him take the can carefully with a pencil deposit it in a plastic bag he had stored in his desk drawer. I never heard him make the call, "I got it V." I was already on my way to 6th period.

**

* * *

****6****th**** Period---French 2**

"_How is Vice Principal Fennel?"_

_"Wonderful. We smoked a little weed, drank a beer, and talked about the good ole' days."_

_"Was this before or after he busted you for something?"_

_"He didn't bust me for anything Isa. He just wanted to know what I thought of Veronica Mars. Apparently Veronica was the VP's BFF in high school."_

_"Sure. I don't buy it Jan. People just don't go into that office for chit chat with him."_

_"And a soda."_

_"He offered you a soda?"_

_"Yes. See it's all about who you know."_

_"Yeah, I get that. So you should __**know**__ everyone is talking about your performance at Cups of Stone."_

_"Great- maybe I can finally get an agent."_

_"In all seriousness Jan, since when can you sing and play?"_

_"Since forever. As any good privately educated young woman I've been taking lessons since I was old enough to hold something to play. Everything else is all natural God-given ability, dawling." _

_"Really? What did your public-display of ability get you?"_

_"Now is it really so hard to believe that I just did that to show off?"_

_"Yes and what did you get?"_

_"Mr. Kane's experts' files- basically everything Duncan Kane has collected since he ceremoniously removed Keith Mars from the investigation."_

_"Woah."_

_"Yeah-woah."_

_"Speaking of Kane- where's his spawn?"_

_"Bring Your Brat to Work?"_

_"That was good."_

_"I know- I am getting so much better at my 09er quips."_

The bell rung and Isa and January paused their conversation to write down the assignment of which they hadn't been paying any attention to and grab their bags. Before they could leave Heathe and Alex walked-in to escort the girls. Heathe seemed to hold back a little and motioned for January to do the same. January waved off Alex and Isa; the first whom gave the pair a slightly concerned look.

"What's up Heathe?" January asked, attempting casual conversation with her resident crush.

"I was wondering- for being such a good sport about dinner if maybe you'd like to get some with me…just me."

"Like a date?" She all but spat out.

Heathe gave a gentle laugh. "Yeah, like a date only I think under California law- it is one."

January blushed and shifted nervously. "That'd be nice." She replied a little softly.

"Great. I'll meet you at your house tomorrow night at 6 pm?"

"Sure."

He gave her another smile as they both exited the classroom and caught up with Alex and Isa. Isa felt great about what was developing between her newest friends. January was blissfully unaware of everything the rest of the day. Heathe was blissfully flirting with January the rest of the day. And Alex felt in him that this was the start of something incredibly horribly wrong.

**

* * *

****Grant House**

I drummed my fork on my plate. Something was right for a change. I was talkative. I was lively. Heck, I even engaged my brothers in conversation about the latest gaming system they were bugging Mom and Dad for. Both parents continued to look at me as if I had undergone an alien-body snatch experiment.

"So angel, how's school?" My dad asked, not wanting I think to break my happy bubble.

"Fine." I replied, a little more school girl-dreamy than I intended.

"Newspaper? How's that going? Has the editor let you in on anything of importance?"

"Ummm…don't know. I turned in my first draft of my first piece on the _Kidnappings_. She's going to proof it tonight. We'll see if she'll take it to print. Although, speaking of newspaper class…do you remember me telling you that Heathe Mitchell is in class with me?"

"Of course, you had dinner at his family's house. How did that go by the way?"

"Fine, fine." Lying comes too naturally to me at times. "You see the reason I bring it up is Heathe and I have gotten to know each other and… he asked me out for tomorrow night. He's going to pick-me up here at 6. Is that cool?"

"No."

I jerked my head up to Dad's direction. "What did you say?"

"I said no. January, four girls have gone missing and they were all your age and all apparently going on dates. No dates till the matter is cleared-up."

"Seriously?!?" I retorted.

"January Grant, I said no and I expect you to obey it. Are we clear?" Dad's voice reverberated loudly.

"Since when have _you_ ever been worried about me going out?"

"January, the matter is over. I am not letting you go out and run into danger once again and get in trouble or worse…hurt." Oh good Lord, he was using his _legal_ voice now. This usually meant there would be no chance for any rebuttal; except for tonight because I wasn't finished discussing the matter.

"So that's it? You're not really worried about my safety but me getting into trouble and running down the family name, right?"

_Wow, I was angry. _

"January, your Dad is worried about you. I am too. I heard the other mothers today also talking about how they aren't letting their girls go out. Please, understand this is for you own good. You mean a lot to us. You're our only daughter." Mom interjected.

"No, I'm not." This came out before I could think. Okay, maybe I was more than angry.

My Dad guffawed. "What? You know something we don't?"

"Nope." I said, as I stood. "I know something you know but don't think I know. I know I am adopted. I know that I'm not your daughter. So you both can stop worrying about what I'll do to the family name or worrying about me at all. How lucky did you guys get?" I finished with pure dramatic flare, in between sobs, and running to my room. I pillaged through my purse till I found my cell phone. I scrolled through the names till I found the one I wanted and hit SEND. I listened as the phone rang. One time. Two times. Three times. Voicemail.

"_Hello, you've reached Alex Guan. Not here. Leave one."_

"Hey Alex, it's me- January. I just needed to talk. Call me. Bye." I hit the END button and threw myself back on the bed. My door was locked so I wouldn't have to worry about the fallout from my admission. And my head hurt as tears poured over something I had held in for so long- they weren't tears of release but just more confusion. Did anybody understand what this felt like?

**

* * *

****Meanwhile at the Kane House….**

Hannah Kane drummed her fork on her plate. Something wasn't right. Her "gut" hurt. Her quietness had permeated the usually lively dinner table.

"So sweetie, how's school?"

"Fine."

"Newspaper? Are your staffing woes getting any better?"

"Actually I got January's first rough draft of her first take on the kidnappings."

"Oh." Duncan Kane choked out.

Hannah took note of her father's reaction. "I'm proofing it tonight and then I think I will run it in next week's _Navigator_."

"You will?" Scott had just now boarded the Who-Are-You-And-What-Have-You-Done-With-My-Sister-train.

"Yes, I will. It's probably the best piece written since I've been on the Navigator and this is just the first installment."

There was more than awkward silence; an "elephant" that refused be ignored had entered the room.

"No."

Hannah's head jerked up and to her father's direction. "What did you say?"

"I said no. That piece can only harm or hamper the investigation. At the very worst, her piece will cause hysteria amongst Neptune. I think the decision to publish is in _no one's_ best interest Hannah. I would have also expected you to use better judgment in this case."

"Are you serious?!?"

"Hannah, I said no and I expect you to respect my decision."

"Funny thing, you have no right to tell me what I can and cannot publish."

"Actually I do. One phone call and I will get gag order on _all_ press concerning the case." Duncan replied- his voice was firm and final.

Well, to everyone but his daughter. "You would do that? You would go to such great lengths to stop my high school newspaper just because you happen to hate the girl writing the piece?"

"Hannah this isn't about January. She's just a girl…"

"A girl who works for Keith Mars- your ridiculous self-imposed nemesis and happens to know more about this family than most; that's the girl you want to silence."

"Hannah this is about the case. There is new information concerning the case I don't want it to be public knowledge. Cindy and I have invested a lot of money into solving the kidnappings and bringing the girls home."

"I can't believe you're that stupid."

"Hannah Kane!"

"What _dad_?!? You know more than anyone that those girls are dead! January knows it and her article may open a lot of eyes to what is really going on…"

"Hannah, I said no. I have had enough of your back talk as well."

"Well, get ready for some more because I'm not finished."

"Hannah!" Nichole finally spoke up. She like her son had been watching the battle of words hoping it would subside as most arguments between father and daughter did. This obviously was a rare occasion for them both. Never had either heard Duncan lay such a heavy unsubstantiated law upon his daughter's love of journalism and never had they heard Hannah so openly disrespect her father. "Hannah, listen I'm sure you father has very good reasons for him not wanting the article to go to print…yet. Maybe when they have followed these new leads…then you can print the article. I'm sure it will be just as well received." Her voice was smooth and polite.

"Would you stop?!?" Hannah now reared her head toward Nichole along with her rage. "You have no idea why this is so important. Two of these missing girls are my cousins! I didn't know them- I don't know them and here's a new girl who knows them better than me and obviously cares more about them than I do. How entirely screwed up is that?!?"

"Hannah you will stop now!" Duncan's voice pierced his daughter's tirade. "You owe your mother…"

"She's not my mother! You screwed up her death…remember! You let her die and then you kidnapped me! YOU'RE NO WORSE THAN PSYCHOTIC CREEP WHO'S DOING THIS! YOU DON'T GET IT AND IF THEY ARE DEAD- I BLAME YOU!!!" Hannah threw her fork down on her delicate plate- shattering it into pieces before escaping upstairs to her bedroom.

She slammed her door with such force the entire mansion shook in fear. Hard tears, a long time coming, began their way down her face as she rummaged through her purse. She pulled out her cell phone and made through her contacts and held it there. 12 years she had had held her finger on the SEND button over this number- always too afraid to dial. This time her fear had been over run by a flood of guilt and the anger of lies and betrayal. She hit SEND and put the phone to her ear. It rang two times, before a slightly familiar voice answered.

"Alex Guan."

"Alex, it's me Hannah Kane."

There was a silence. "Umm….Hannah, is something wrong? Do you need something?"

"I'm sorry." And the flood within her released. She was sobbing and rightfully so. "I'm sorry I never contacted you or Kami or Kara. I'm sorry ignored you. I'm sorry I was a total bitch to all of you. I…am…so sorry." She placed her hand over mouth, catching herself just a little.

"Hannah…"

She braced herself. Whatever he handed her- she had deserved. She was not however prepared for what he said next.

"I'll meet you at _Cups of Stone_ in five minutes, if you can. I think it's about time we talked."

Hannah pushed back the feeling of joy and rushed to grab her purse and keys. "I'll be there." She responded. She hung up and ran down the stairs and out the door before a word to her could be spoken or anything done to stop her. It was time Hannah Kane faced the truth and began fighting on her own.

**

* * *

****THE NEXT DAY:**

**Neptune Memorial Graveyard**

I'm not sure why I came here. Before I knew it- I was in my Hummer making my way to the graveyard. I guess I just needed to find one answer to one mystery in my life. All I wanted was one answer to a question that was swirling in my massive-over-analytical head. I knew if I came here I could find something but was it something I wanted to see?

Since Alex had told me about the missing gravestone and the newly erected memorial I had planned on coming here. I wasn't sure what I expected to see; maybe to see nothing more than what Duncan, Logan and Cindy saw. Maybe, just maybe, to see what Veronica saw in them when she took the picture.

I parked my Hummer on a side rode and walked through the too green grass to the memorial. It wasn't hard to miss. Here in the middle of the cemetery stood a large angel with eyes turned up created with a glistening marble stone. At her feet were carved flower petals and an inscription:

Magdalynne Lester-Echolls

March 02nd, 1963 – January 11th, 2005

Logan's mother? Keith had briefly touched in his book about the death of Lynn Echolls but even if he hadn't- it had been plastered over the media. I wasn't even born but her suicide haunted the legacy of the Echolls name and her famous son. Then something within me cracked to some extent. Logan Echolls, jackass extraordinaire, had been abandon by his mother. Left with no answers or reason- like me- he was in all senses left alone. At least I had two parents who had taken me and loved me; as best they could or knew how- right? I was mucked by my own thoughts that I never noticed him approach behind me. He stood at my heels and he spoke evenly in a tone I had never heard from him- a tone of loss.

"She jumped off a bridge. Her body was never found. For years I believed she was alive…_waiting_ for the right moment to come in and save me. I'm not sure why I expected her to save me; she didn't when she was alive." He shrugged; shrugging off the memories of a passive mother and abusive father. "I built her a memorial. Commissioned the best sculptor and the best landscapist; and had them build her a shrine." He paused as he whimsically ran his hand over the angel's bereaved face. "She would have hated it." He mused. He finally pulled away from the statue and looked at me. His eyes were deep with anguish and confusion. His demeanor was nothing I had ever seen from the man. His body was resolute. "Why do you care about a missing grave?"

I thought long and hard on that one. _Why did I care?_ I had no reason other than natural curiosity, right? What drove me with such desperation to know who had been buried and erased?

I knew. I should have seen it all along.

"Three years ago, I found out I was adopted. Not just a simple old-fashioned adoption where some young girl gets knocked up and finds good parents for her baby. No, my biological mother and I _assume_ my biological father wanted nothing to do with me. They buried the adoption deeper than Jimmy Hoffa's body." I pushed my hands deep in my jacket.

I hadn't told anyone, outside of my parents, about my _little_ discovery. No one; not George or Lallie or Alex or Isa---no one. So _why was I telling Logan Echolls?_ I continued nonetheless- finishing what I had started. "Three years ago I went to the nurse's office at my school. For the first time I noticed my blood type. I was curious. The notes mentioned my blood type as rare but I knew for a fact that both my parents had two very common blood types. When my brothers were born my Mom needed a transfusion. They were able to use my dad's blood and there was plenty at the blood bank. There was no way I could be their child…" I gave an ironic smile. "Confirming what all young children believe; I was adopted. I was able through my family's connections to do research. I found my actual birth certificate and date of adoption. I was born in London on Oct. 19th, 2009 at 2:25 am. Immediately after birth, I was named and legally adopted by the Grants."

Logan was silent staring not at me but at the statue looking for an answer in her face. Would he tell me what happened to the grave? Would he tell me why he had erased one single black and white memory?

"The grave belonged to my daughter."

_Oh God,_ I had not expected that. I don't know what I had expected but I did not expect to hear that he had rid the cemetery of his daughter's burial site. I was confused- was it cruelty or remorse that possessed him to do such a thing?

"I never knew her. I never saw her. She never belonged to me. The…" He struggled to continue. His voice caught but he mustered on. "Mother of my daughter went away and didn't tell me she was pregnant. The baby was stillborn. I had no clue or idea. I had gone on with my life as normal until one day Duncan Kane saw a tombstone. A small new tombstone that read, "Little Girl. 2009. LoVed Daughter." He called and I came here. He and Mac came with me. They came with me to meet the child I lost and that…" He paused. "That is when Veronica Mars took her photograph."

"I don't get it. The grave didn't read anything about you…"

He laughed softly. "Loved was spelled big L and little o and big V and little e. It was a secret code between myself and Veronica- the first two letters of each of our names. Our own epic LoVe story—I use to say…"

The bitterness of the moment overthrew me. _Veronica_ had abandon Logan and their child. She left him to deal with the grief he didn't know he could bear. And suddenly I hated her. I hated the photograph. I hated the memory I had pictured in my mind. My truth was not the real truth. My truth was a tainted one-sided blinded version of one angle of film. I wanted to throw-up. I wanted to run. I felt guilt and bereaved at my behavior to Logan, Duncan and Mac. They had every right to act as they had and I had invalidated their earned feelings. Hot tears of shame poured down my face as I looked at the angel. She had no words of solace; only silence. If only I had acted in her manner; quiet and gentle...

I felt Logan's presence draw closer to me. Closer and closer he came; till he had wrapped his arms around me. He pressed my head against his shoulder; my face falling at his chest and I cried. He lulled me with quiet whispers. And I continued to mourn- for his little girl and for me. Two children never knowing who they really were until it was too late. Only I was left to live with confusion and loss. For the first time in my life, I wished I had died in someone's stead- I wish I had never lived.


	17. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: I really don't own anything even remotely releated to this show...not even a collectible- just some boxed DVD sets. **

**A/N: An apology. I love my job. I really do but I work with people and peoples is unpredictable and demanding. So, apologies this next part has taken so long. Nexr, I received the the most wonderul PM of my entire life. (I have it saved and I read it when the people I work with annoy me more than usual...and all of the sudden there are rainbows, puppies and kittens!) Thank you- you know who you are. It made my life...well, at least as a writer of fanfic and devout fan of V.M. Also, the reviews just amaze me. I'm very humble and grateful and would like to thank the Academy... Lastly, I am seriously almost done. Three chapters left to write and two to edit and Epilogue that I love! Keep reading and reviewing if you will. **

**Be sweet and read!**

**

* * *

****Kane House**

"She's alive."

_How much had Logan drunk?_ Duncan pondered worriedly; chasing Logan around the living room as Logan moved from corner to corner. "Who's alive, Logan?" Duncan spoke slowly again. He'd been asking the same question for the past fifteen minutes. No other words but "She's alive." and Logan's frantic behavior.

Duncan had only seen this one other time. When Logan's mom had committed suicide, Logan went off on the same tangent proclaiming her well and safe. This innocent rare part of his friend clung so deeply to false hopes that it scared Duncan now. Logan had been through a lot the past few months; how much more could he take?

Logan walked over to the window, looked out and then turned to meet Duncan's gaze. "My daughter…she's not dead."

"WHAT?!?" Duncan all but screamed. Far fetched was the understatement of the year for Logan's latest theory.

Logan ignored Duncan's reaction and went and sat on the couch. He looked at the floor as he placed his elbows on his knees and leaned forward; holding his hands firmly together in a nervous excited format. "I went to the Memorial today. January Grant was there…"

"Logan, please tell me_ she_ didn't plant this idea in your head…" Duncan moaned as he sat across from Logan in the loveseat. The girl had been nothing but trouble since her arrival and if she was causing Logan's latest outbreak; he'd have plenty to say to her.

"She was there looking at the Memorial. She asked me where was the grave and why was it gone. She asked and then she told me she was adopted. She was adopted in _London_ in _October 2009._ She didn't know her parents; the information was more than sealed but erased. She told me all of this and I told her about the grave. I told her and she cried…"

Duncan shook his head. "I don't understand Logan…"

Logan looked from the floor to Duncan and back down. His words were direct and full. "January Grant is my daughter. She didn't die. Veronica gave her up for adoption and never told a soul. She gave her up to the Grants. That teenage girl is _our_ daughter."

"There. Is. No. Way." Duncan answered.

"Duncan it fits. The time of her birth. The place of her birth. It all fits. Look at her!" Logan's voice began to rise and he turned his attention to Duncan. "She's got Veronica's height, hair, and stubbornness. She's got my eyes, my nose, and my _wonderful_ ability to make good first impressions. She's got _our _blood type."

"How do you know that?"

"That's how she found out- she was adopted. She has a rare blood type, the Grants don't. Veronica and I… we do…have rare blood types."

"Logan, the Grants _are her_ parents. Not you or Veronica…they have raised her. They are all she knows. What are you going to do with this information? Are you going to tell her?"

Logan stood with force and fury. "She's my child! I want her to know that I didn't know…that I wouldn't have given her up…that…"

Before Logan could finish, a presence entered the room and stayed in the doorway. The voice spoke finishing Logan's tired. "That you left her mother for another girl. Is that what you were going to say?" Veronica Mars asked Logan. She stood at the frame, leaning and arms crossed. It was a classic pose for her; familiar as the damaged tone in her voice. "What were you going to tell her Logan? That I am horrible rotten person because I never told you I was pregnant? That I made a decision to give…" Her voice cracked with pain and frustration. "_Our_ daughter up for her to have a better life?"

"You never gave me a chance."

"You made your choice. You chose Hannah. Not once did I fault you for that Logan. Not once did I even begrudge the fact you chose someone else. But I didn't want your pity…"

"GOD VERONICA! WE'RE NOT TALKING ABOUT PITY---WE'RE TALKING ABOUT A CHILD!"

"MY CHILD! You waved every right when you left me. What would you have done Logan? You and Hannah were already making plans to get married. Duncan was gone raising his own daughter and living a new life. My dad had just remarried. Everyone's life was moving on and do you _honestly think you would have given all of it up to raise a baby?_ Logan we were kids." She pleaded her case.

"Why the lie?"

It was the first time Duncan had spoken since Veronica had entered the house. Veronica didn't move- she just closed her eyes and let them brim over with tears. "That was my Dad. He…" She paused. _Breathe, _she reminded herself. "He didn't want to believe that there was a part of our family living…out there in the world without us. He wanted to believe and me to accept she was dead. The thought of her was buried beneath a small tombstone. He wanted to punish you- all of you- for getting to stay in Neptune and move on while we would always be held in one moment."

"The picture…" Logan whispered.

"I was as much in that picture as all three of you. It was the first and last time I saw that grave. It was then I grew-up and I was able to move on."

"So glad for you…so glad you could go on knowing what YOU DID!"

"I DID GO ON! AND SO DID YOU! ALL OF YOU!" Veronica was in full-accusation mode-with the voice level to prove it. "ALL OF YOU HATED ME FOR WHAT I DID! I HATED MYSELF! You…you got to believe she was dead. You got to believe she was in a better place- that she never once had to face the reality of her mother, right? RIGHT?!? Well, me…I got to know for all these years our daughter was alive and well and I wasn't there. I wasn't there for ANYTHING and neither were you…I wish I could have believed she was dead. IF ONLY…" The screaming had been resolved to full sobs, her body leaned over herself in complete surrender. The weight of the world had come crashing down on them all.

Maybe it was the first time in their lives that these three people had ever longed to go back to the _simpler days_ of their youth. High school was one bad day compared to the years they had been living as a result of it.

Where do you go from here?

**

* * *

****Cups of Stone**

_I have measured out my life with coffee spoons. T.S. Eliot_

There is not enough espresso in this wide world to sort out my mysteries today. I am sitting in _Cups of Stone_ with a double shot, laptop open, and a muddled mind. I have lost all my objectivity in every matter concerning my life and _the thing is kiddies_, I don't know how I got here. I mean I consider myself a fairly logical and linear person and for all that's in me, I can't retrace my steps that led me to a coffee shop- _**alone. **_

_When the puzzle pieces don't fit- step back and take a look at the box._

It's my grandmother's adage. As a successful detective, it was practically her mantra. She always told me when a crime became messy and she became over-involved and nothing seemed _right_ she would step away and try to see the crime as a whole instead of clues and facts. And that's exactly what I need to do.

I focus on the screen in front of me and create two separate folders. There are two separate mysteries and I need to see them away from each other and distinctly whole. The first and most pressing is the kidnapping of the cheerleaders.

_What do I know? _

Four cheerleaders from two different schools and one distinct area have disappeared. The girls only have three things in common: they are all cheerleaders. They are all middle-class members of society. They all had begun or were in the process of dating someone new to their lives.

The cheerleaders had been gone beyond 72 hours which meant this was no longer a case of abductions but _ladies and gents_, a genuine serial killer. When you deal with serial killers- the case is put under a whole new light. If the girls were meeting someone that they hadn't let their families in on- most obvious candidate is someone they met over the Net. If this is the case, online predators are a dime a dozen. Serial killers are online tend to be males in their late 30's to early 50's with a history of sexual and physical abuse. This "killer" was methodical in his abductions- in simpler terms- there was method in his madness. The cars left behind with the jewelry were clean of prints and any other foreign matter. In fact, the cars were so devoid of the human clues- it was oddly…surgical, _medical even. _

The jewelry left behind, according to the information Scott _whored_ to me, was a tie to something in the killer's past. This was a symbol of hate or revenge. It was also a way to mark or brand his victims. According to Keith if this was a case of murder then the stakes were higher. Killers usually spiral out of control until they are caught or are so "proud" of their deeds they fumble and confess. This led to the horrible thought that there just might be more killings. Macbeth was right; you just can't kill one- especially if the voices in your head are obnoxiously loud.

Okay that was _that _case. Moving on…

The second mystery was the saga of the missing tombstone.

I downed the rest of my espresso in hopes it might give me the strength to follow this lead. I had a picture of Logan Echolls (a.k.a. Confusion Boy), Duncan Kane (a.k.a. Super Kane), and Cindy Casablancas (a.k.a. Weird Chick) looking at a grave of Logan's still-born illegitimate daughter with Veronica Mars (a.k.a. Poser Photographer). Veronica and Logan had been an item and conceived and Logan knew nothing of it till after the fact. The grave was gone and replaced by a memorial to a seemingly mediocre mother by Logan himself.

Alright, perhaps it is the double-shot talking, or my wonderful internal instinct but something tells me the two are connected. These two seemingly random cases are connected. Screw Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon, something tells me I can do it in one person. One person connects both these cases and it's so much closer than I can see.

_When all else fails- ask the most two random questions you can and jump from there._

My uncle taught me that safe rule. He said as an officer when he was stuck he would ask the weirdest questions he could and then answer them. The questions he said were pure gut no material-facts-induced questions. Yeah, instinct wasn't always perfect but it never failed to lead him on the right track. And what can I say- my instinct kicks ass! Seriously.

Before I can ask the questions, my phone vibrates _again_. This would be the 17th missed call from Adopt-a-Rents. 17 missed calls from them, 3 missed calls from Alex, 5 missed calls from Isa, and even 2 missed calls from Lalie and George. (No doubt _some people_ are desperate enough they will call friends millions of miles away to use to get in touch.) I don't plan on actually calling anyone back…yet. Soon enough- when I'm ready but right now I'm just not.

Two questions- I just need two questions…

GUT!

I move to Google and quickly type in my first question; well, tags more precisely.

Athens, TN (Where Heathe's creepy surgical dad is from…) Cheerleaders (Because he seems like the type to you know…well, ewww….)

_Athens, Tennessee Cheerleaders Scandal-_ 10027 hits

_On June 2nd, 2020 a noted Knoxville plastic surgeon was convicted of three accounts of a lesser charge on statutory rape. The court came to a standstill when Mr. Mitchell's son…_

Second question-second tag…_whatever!_

Veronica Mars _(Really, who the heck is she?)_ Hearst College _(The place where the relationship between her and Logan ended and possible conception occurred…)_

_Veronica Mars Hearst College 2007-_ 2003 hits

_**Famous photographer Veronica Mars attended Hearst College and developed her love of photography there. She left the school before the 2009 semester to study abroad in the Hearst College Abroad Study program in London, England. Her work…**_

_Fiction is obliged to stick to possibilities. Truth isn't. Mark Twain_

I shut my laptop quickly and throw it in my bag; grabbing my keys and tossing in my cell. Two questions and I have solved everything; I know the truth and right now, where that might take me…well, the possibilities are endless.

And knowing me, dangerous, too.

**_

* * *

_**

**_Kane House_**

Several hours later in the living room in the Kane house, the room was less volatile but the tension was as thick as the California fogs. It was heavy and made breathing in the room difficult and very hard to see anything in the midst of it. Duncan sat on one corner of his over-stuffed and over-priced less than comfy couch. Logan sat on the over-stuffed matching loveseat. Veronica was leaning against the illustrious and out-of-place fireplace mantel. Ironically, they formed a distinct triangle or maybe it was a subconscious move on all their parts. Their lives had been spent a part of bizarre triangle- no one of them ever catching up with the other.

"You got the DNA test?"

"Yep."

"And…"

"She's mine." Veronica punctuated the last word. A slight dig but inevitable in her train of thought.

"Funny, you needed a test. I didn't."

"The test was a confirmation for what I already knew. Funny too, she didn't bitch me out the first time she met me."

"Why don't you call her now and ask her what she thinks of the great Veronica Mars?"

"Sure and I'll be glad to mention how you were so anxious to find out what happened after the grave…"

_"Could you two shut up?!?"_ Duncan yelled. He rubbed his temples, in a move that disturbingly reminded him of his father. His headache was only growing. Hours had passed and it was bits of fighting, jabs, and desperate silence. Who was he kidding? It was classic Logan and Veronica. When the two weren't making out and going at it like rabbits- they were bickering, fighting, and throwing down all out war. It'd been this way since the beginning, should he honestly expect anything different years later? You could grow-up, you could mature, but one thing Duncan Kane now knew for certain you can **never escape **your past. Logan and Veronica's past was a walking-talking and yes, generally annoying teenage girl who by the cruel and warped sense of God managed to re-locate herself to the very place where she was conceived and into the lives of her birth parents.

"What are we going to do?" Logan asked, arms crossed- more ready for battle than a solution to their problem.

"What do you mean Logan? _What are we going to do?_ She's by all legal means the daughter of the Grants. She doesn't know we exist. We can't just storm into her life…"

"Like hell we can. I wanna see my kid!"

"Then you should have thought about that before you slept with me, dumped me and then slept with Hannah!" Veronica retorted, angrier than ever.

As the two continued to wage all out war and come nowhere near an answer- a thought formed in Duncan's head. He wondered if maybe, being she was their kid, she hadn't caught on that she could possibly be related to them? Logan saw it. Veronica saw it. She could be just that brilliant- as his own daughter and son pointed out. If she knew… if she knew that Logan and Veronica… "LOGAN! VERONICA! SHUT-UP AND SIT DOWN!"

Hannah and Alex entered the Kane house quietly. They didn't want to surprise her dad or mom with this new development. This had to be done tactfully and intelligently. Alex shut the door behind him with the greatest of ease and almost tip-toeing followed Hannah down the hall towards the foyer and living room. The pair stopped suddenly, nearly tripping over each other when they heard the "elevated voices"- two of which DID NOT belong to anyone in Hannah's family.

Hannah immediately recognized the voice of Uncle Logan. The female voice was new. But quickly identified when her father yelled for Veronica to shut-up, too. So this was the infamous Veronica Mars in their house- in their house- WHAT WAS GOING ON?!? Both stopped shy of the entrance way into the living room and eavesdropped like the good teenagers they were.

Duncan's voice carried through the entire house. "DID YOU TWO IDIOTS EVER CONSIDER MAYBE SHE KNOWS?!?"

_"Doughnut,_ you're kiddin' right…" Logan replied sarcastically.

"Logan, this is your…_child_. And while the two of you haven't raised a teenager, let alone a teenage daughter- I have. They tend to figure out things you'd rather them not know…" Duncan sighed, as he flopped down in the chair remembering the fight he'd had with his daughter the night before. "They are perceptive and persistent. Especially if this girl has your DNA…"

Hannah felt her arm slowly being squeezed by Alex. She turned and saw a similar look in his eyes that was in her own--- January Grant was the biological daughter of Veronica Mars and Logan Echolls. _And yes the Apocalypse is comin'_, Hannah thought with a mixture of bewilderment, amusement and maybe, even a little fear. This girl that had plagued her life since the moment she stepped in the newsroom was either a biological lotto winner or genetic catastrophe- depending on your views of the two adults with her dad. Hannah was leaning that it was a steady mix of both.

Hannah whispered to Alex, the boy that probably knew January the best, "Do you think she knows?"

Alex was on another world. He'd been trying to reach January all day and come to find out she'd had a major blowout with her parents…the adoptive ones- it seemed. They had fought about a date with Heathe and her safety and her involvement in the Kidnapping story. She hadn't answered but she had left the message detailing the fight. He had no idea where she was… but he'd lay his last dime that if Logan and Veronica knew--- January was only steps behind if not already there. "Hannah I need the keys to your car." He didn't ask his cousin, with whom he had just begun to form the tentative bonds of a relationship with or even say please, he simply demanded. He wasn't the type to demand. He was the classic cool and slightly aloof Asian-American computer geek…till now.

Hannah didn't say anything but simply pulled the keys out of her pocket and handed them to him. No warnings or threats if he hurt it- if he needed it probably a very good reason and besides it wasn't as if her dad couldn't afford to buy her a new car. He bolted out of the door, slamming it behind him, completely forgetting they had been covert mode. Hannah tried quickly and desperately to play as if she had just walked in but she wasn't fast enough and Uncle Logan was standing eye to eye with her. She stood a little straighter as she came into the focus of all three adults.

"How much of that did you hear?" His voice somber and scary.

"Pretty much all of it."

"What do you think about it?"

The question shocked Hannah her somewhat as it came from her grave father.

"Doesn't matter what I think. You should be more worried about who was with me and what he thought…"

_"He_?" Duncan asked.

"Alex Guam was with me. He's January's best friend and if my skills as a reporter are worth anything I believe he's sure she knows."

This time both Logan and Veronica collapsed on the couch at opposite ends. The fighting was worthless if she knew.

"What do you think she will do?" Veronica asked, in a voice off-kilter for herself. It was a voice full of fear and sadness. She never let that show.

Hannah took the scene in and guffawed a little at them. Did they have any idea who January was? Did they have any clue what a teenage daughter would do when she finds out her birth parents are…well, them? "_You're kidding me_? You don't know what she'll do? She's January Grant. She's going to hunt you both down along with all the gory details and lay it out for the world and Neptune to see."

Logan leaned back and for the first time looked a little relieved. "Yup. _Definitely our kid_."

* * *

**Mitchell Outside**

_If I show you then I know you_

_Won't tell what I said_

_Cause two can keep a secret_

_If one of them is dead…_

_-The Pierces_

You know how some things sound good at one moment and then the next you're outside the house of a possible serial killer…

_Eh?_

Maybe you don't. For me, going to meet Heathe sounded like a good idea in my head. I figured if I could solve this case, take it to the press, and leave it with the proper authorities then I could worry about the fact that my biological parents were in Neptune. Okay, **let's be real**, that my sperm and egg donor were Logan Echolls and Veronica Mars and I was none other than Dead Baby Girl Mars-Echolls or Echolls-Mars…

_Yeah, I'm not bitter._

I stood outside my car, outside the Mitchell house, waiting for Heathe. I knew better. I should've called Keith. The police. The F.B.I. would have been good… C.I.A. might have worked too. Nope, I carry my bag and my handy-dandy taser and assume that will be enough to fight off a guy who's kidnapped and most likely killed high school cheerleaders.

**Not only am I bitter but apparently I am also incredibly stupid.**

Heathe saw me from the door and gave a quick wave to me. I tapped my foot. _C'mon Sociopath, we don't have all day_, I thought as I waited. I had figured it out and I planned that this was going to go down smoothly. I knew the secret. I had leverage and a taser.

Heathe finally came to my driver's side where I was standing casually. Sort of casually.

"January, you look great."

I smiled. "Thanks Heathe. Are you ready?"

"Yeah but I was thinking maybe we could take my car…"

I paused. "Ummm…I'd really prefer if I drove. I get car sick easy and you know that whole Type-A personality thing…" I shrugged and laughed off.

"I promise I'll drive slow." He bantered flashing his smile that melts even me, a little.

"Could we just take my car? I'd feel so much better with my Hummer." I was getting worried.

That's when he caught it- he knew I knew. The gig was up-the game was over and I had all of about one minute do what I did. I threw my hand in my purse and hit dial as Heathe sucker punched me and grabbed me and drug me to his car.

His voice sneered loud and clear over my speakerphone, I hoped. "How did you figure it out? How did a pathetic little 09er tramp figure it out?"

My voice, slightly altered by his arm around my neck and being drug, spoke, "I'm not a frak'n cheerleader, you moron! Some girls might find sociopaths attractive; I tend to think they deserve fifty to life."

He laughed, not at my wit but the laugh of homicidal maniac. _Oh boy, I sure know how to pick 'em._

"Where are we going Heathe?"

"We're going for our date. I'm a Southern gentleman," He drawled. "Ladies first." And with that he shoved me in his car to the passenger side. My body slammed over the insides and into the door. I turned towards him ready to leap out the door but he'd managed to lock me inside. I was riding in the car with my life possibly at an end and all I could think of was the tombstone. _The stupid tombstone in the stupid picture in my stupid room….and how I hoped that I wouldn't be under it._

I also hoped Alex was getting every crazy word Heathe had spoken since I dialed his number and that he was smart enough to call Keith Mars or the police or maybe not the police since Heathe was the son of the Sheriff.

Oh, and how next time when I was confronting a possible serial killer I wouldn't go by myself. **_Bad idea._**

* * *

**Mars Inc.**

"C'mon January, pick up…" Keith Mars mumbled into the phone. His voice was edgy and laced with fear. It took a lot for Keith Mars to feel fear; as much as he faced. The fear only rose as he was taken to January's voice mail. Keith hung up the phone.

He dialed the next number. It wasn't one he wanted to dial but in this course he had no choice.

"Grant residence."

"Yes, I need to speak to Mr. or Mrs. Grant…either one…it's an emergency." His voice raced. God, he sounded like a meth addict waiting for his next fix.

A moment later, a woman's voice replaced the male curt one. "This is Mrs. Grant."

"Mrs. Grant, this is Keith Mars. I apologize we're only now talking but I need to know where January is."

"Why?" Her own voice growing slightly worried.

"I pulled-up information about a friend of hers and I am concerned for her safety with this friend."

"Oh…" She choked back- her breath held in apprehension. "You're talking about Heathe Mitchell, aren't you?"

"How did…is she with him?"

He could hear the woman begin to sob, trying desperately to talk. Her voice was quiet and full of regret about something. "Last night January asked to go out with him. We told her no and we had a fight. She… she…we fought and she left this morning for school. I haven't seen her since… Mr. Mars what's going on?"

"Do you think she went out with him?"

Pause. "Yes."

"This is very important Mrs. Grant and I need you to stay as calm as possible- do you know where they were going?"

"No…she…just told me they were going to meet at his house and she was driving. That's it…" Her voice cracked at every word. There was no doubt she was crying and no doubt Keith had to remain cool and calm for her.

"Mrs. Grant I need you not to call the police. I'm sure you know who Heathe's mom is. I need you to stay by the phone and wait in case she does call. I need you to call your husband, make a plausible excuse to get him home but not suspiciously. Then I need him to be ready too. Can you do this for me?"

Mrs. Grant was silent and Keith assumed she had nodded in agreement and replied with what little was left. "Of course."

"Good. Now I am going to make some calls and we are going to find January, alright?"

"Okay."

"Stay by the phone and stay calm." Keith simply replied as he hung up.

He ran his fingers over his head and took his fist to his desk. DAMNIT! He'd failed again. He'd fail to see the big picture and protect and innocent girl. An innocent girl like his daughter…he picked up the phone quickly and dialed. Three rings and an answer- the voice on the other end seemed less than thrilled.

"_Dad this really isn't a good time…"_

"Sweetie, I need your help. I think January has been kidnapped."

In the background he could hear the squeal of tires. "WHAT?!?"

"She had me check-up on one of her friends and honey, it's bad. This kid's file has teenage killer screaming all over it. She didn't come home and her mom thinks she went out with this kid. I'm guessing he's not stupid and he might figure she knows it's him."

Keith Mars did not expect what he heard next.

"Where was she last?" The voice of Logan Echolls shot out.

"Is that Logan Echolls?!?"

"You know Dad, now is not the time to tell that plot twist- what I need to know is where she was last?"

"They don't know. Sweetheart, what aren't you telling me?"

"January Grant is biologically mine and Logan's kid."

There was a long pause from Keith. "I'm calling Eli and Wallace. I'll meet you at the Grant house in five. Veronica… we have to be careful. This kid that kidnapped her makes Cassidy Casblancas look like a boy scout. I'll see you soon." His voice was sober and cut and did not mince the words. He wasn't sure in this exact moment who he was more angry at: Veronica for not telling him sooner what she thought, Logan for knocking Veronica up in the first place and coming back into her life, January for most likely walking into this knowing the kid was the villain, the kid himself for being a serial killer, the Grants for not keeping better tabs on their daughter or worst of all himself- for not seeing a damn thing.


	18. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I did own a bag of jelly beans but ate them in the furious process of...wait for it...wait for it...FINISHING this story! **

**Rating Note: WARNING! The language and violence steps up in this chapter...**

**A/N: I was inspired last night after a great meeting at work and worked into the wee hours to finally finish the story. I have one more chapter after this to post and then the Epilogue. Thank-you, thank-you, thank-you for the reviews. I am more than delighted that you like/love/tolerate this story. It's been a favorite to write and I will miss the characters once I am done posting it. This chapter is dedicated to Meg Cabot and Jane Austen, simply because great writers inspire me and push me to be better and create my stories.**

**Read, review and relax.**

**Ella

* * *

****Grant House**

There was a safe and quick successive knock on the Grant door. Judge Grant knew that it wasn't January yet a small piece of him hoped this was one big mistake. He hoped against everything that Keith Mars was wrong and his daughter was fine. He was right to never be a betting man, on the other side of the door was a private investigator and his daughter's personal hero, Keith Mars.

Keith stood at the door with trepidation and his rapid mind firing on how he should approach this _delicate situation_. Because not only did he have to worry about his apprentice possibly being kidnapped and killed but he had to worry about his granddaughter. _His granddaughter was missing_. He didn't know how to tell the Grants this or explain why any minute Veronica and Logan would be there, too. Because what did a photographer and a movie producer have to do with a missing teenager?

_In this case, everything_.

He held his composure and greeted Judge Grant solemnly and outright. No pretense or pretending on why he was here. He was here because he _was very good_ at his job and finding people and rescuing them was one of them.

"Judge Grant. Mrs. Grant." He smiled slightly, trying to calm them as he entered their home. First thing was first, make sure everything was set-up in case of emergency. "I need to ask you, I know January has little brothers. They aren't here_, are they_?"

Mrs. Grant merely shook her head. Her voice was barely above a whisper as tears kept dripping from her eyes. "No, I took them to Lizzie Guan's house. She agreed to watch them and didn't ask anything…"

"Good. Good. Next, you haven't alerted any police officers…anybody of the disappearance, have you?"

"No." This time Judge Grant spoke-up. "We didn't. I told everyone at work that January had come home sick and my wife would be out with the boys till late this evening."

Keith nodded that this was a smart move. He'd give Judge Grant one thing- he could think on his fast and sound in a moment of crisis. "Now, I need both of you to sit down because this is about to get a whole lot worse and a whole lot more confusing."

"What are you talking about?" Judge Grant asked, his voice already beleaguered by the circumstances and not fond of being ordered to sit down and told things were going to "get worse."

"Please, Mr. and Mrs. Grant- sit down." Keith spoke in the authoritative voice he occasionally used with the over-worried parents he dealt with in his job. They looked at each other in pure confusion and sat down. "Mr. and Mrs. Grant how much do you know about January's birth parents?"

"How…" Mrs. Grant choked. There was no need. Her husband finished for her.

"Nothing. It was a totally closed adoption with no record of her mother or father. I am assuming January told you about our fight and her being adopted."

Keith placed his hands at his mouth and elbows on his knees as he sat and shook his head. "No, she never told me." His voice almost sounding aloof. "Her parents'…that is to say her birth parents' told me."

"Wait, how could…her birth parents' are here? They know for certain January is theirs?" Judge Grant asked, more confused and not really believing it either.

"They know because they ran a D.N.A. test on her. She is also born at the very time and date that their daughter was born and in the very place."

"Have you been working for them this whole time? Is that why you got close to her?" Now Judge Grant was standing in anger.

"No. I didn't know till five minutes ago when they told me."

"Why would they _tell you?"_

"Because January's biological mother is my daughter, Veronica."

There was a stone silence in the room as if anyone was afraid to move. Keith had finally said it. He never said it when she was born and never once spoke about since. Today, on the day he could possibly really lose her, he said it out loud to himself and to her adoptive parents. Keith wouldn't have to worry about breaking the silence because at that moment Logan, Veronica, Eli and Wallace burst through the unlocked door.

_So much for a secure environment. _

Keith was quick to stand and make the proper introductions amongst what was appearing to be a volatile crowd of people in a small living room.

"Judge Grant, Mrs. Grant- this is my daughter Veronica Mars. Logan Echolls. My partner, Eli Navarro and the Vice-Principal and family friend, Wallace Fenell."

Veronica began snapping mental images of the couple. They were so…normal. She'd seen them before, in the information she had Googled and pulled-up since her "discovery." They were normal parents, older than her and Logan but only by a few years. She'd given her daughter the perfect home life. Two stable parents and a pair of younger brothers; obviously and purposefully missing in her mind-shots.

Logan had taken in the picture in the very same way. It could easily be said that he didn't have the best of childhoods. His parents were notorious, infamous, and dead before his 21st birthday. He'd been beaten and neglected as a kid. Although he had money, he missed out on the normalcy of a loving family. Veronica, while having a "super-swell" dad, still was missing an alcoholic mother who had run off with her savings. Her mother was also an adulterer and could have made Veronica's life a Greek-tragedy by way of Mr. Kane. How could they have ever raised a normal-adjusted daughter between the home lives they led? And standing in front of him were the perfect parents. They probably bought her a pony and everything. January had two loving parents to raise her and for a brief glimpse, he was jealous of her.

"I hate to interrupt what is an awkward moment but Keith you got two minutes to tell me what Echolls is doin' here before I kill him." Eli replied, cutting to the chase.

Keith glared at Eli but knew he'd have to answer at some point. "Eli, January is the biological daughter of Veronica and Logan." There, he said it again. It had to get easier, right?

"Oh." Eli had no other reply. It was as if someone had spiked his Cheerios with acid. Veronica and Logan reproducing wasn't a thought he wanted or ever cared to have.

"I think we talk about that later. What I'm worried about is that neither January nor Alex Guan, Heathe Mitchell or Hannah Kane showed up for school today. That is half-of the newspaper class. What's going on?" Wallace asked, reinstating the worry in the room.

"January and I had a fight last night about her seeing Heathe. Under the current circumstances and disappearances I didn't think it was a good idea. We had a pretty hefty screaming match before she admitted she knew she was adopted. She went to her room last night and I left early this morning before she did---for what I assumed would be school." Judge Grant realized they had to begin to go over January's steps and emotions and motives in order to judge where she was.

"I ran into her at the cemetery early this morning. She asked me about the grave in the picture. I told her the whole story. She left in a hurry after that…" Logan spoke, continuing January's movement over Neptune.

"She didn't come to school, we know. Neither did Hannah, Alex or Heathe…" Keith filled-in.

"Hannah and Alex were at Duncan's before we left. Hannah said that Alex believed January had figured out we were her parents and would be acting on that information. He took Hannah's car and went to find her. He mentioned something about her meeting a guy from school for a date, a mutual friend and catching her there." Veronica continued.

"The mutual friend is Heathe Mitchell and if I'm right and if your daughter is right- he's the Cheerleader Serial Killer." Keith stated.

"And since it's _your kid_ V, there's no doubt she's gone after Psycho Teen-Throb all by herself." Eli keenly observed.

Before Veronica could reply, she caught Logan's eye who had been motioning her to follow him. The two politely excused themselves and Logan pulled out his cell. He had received a text from Duncan.

**ALEX CALLED HANNAH. SAID SOMETHING ABOUT A PIPE WAREHOUSE. NEEDED TO CONTACT KEITH, ASAP. CALL ME BACK.**

Heathe had taken January to the old abandon Pipe Warehouse. Veronica reappeared and motioned for her father and left Wallace to talk to the Grants. She told him of the text.

"Alright, Veronica and…Logan, God I CAN'T BELIEVE I AM SAYING THIS---," He gritted. "Go to the Warehouse. Find Alex and January and be very careful of Heathe. Call me when you get there. I will with the Grants go to the Department and be there as soon as I can with the authorities and emergency crew if needed. I will have Eli and Wallace make sure we have all the information ready to hand over about the case. **Go. Now**." His voice low and commanding as he spoke.

He paused and if he ever believed in God he prayed. Prayed that January was still alive and that this case would have a happy ending and that everyone stayed alive. He went into the next room and began his strategy with the Grants.

Veronica and Logan sped off in her car. She was shaking and racing and this was all happening too fast for her. She felt a hand cover hers over the gear where she had let it rest. Her shaking stopped and she took a quick glance at his hand, his eyes fixed out the fast moving roads behind them. She knew he wasn't only doing this for her but for himself. At this moment, whatever happened in the past was just that- they were racing for a future.

**--------------------------------------------**

**Pipe Warehouse**

"_No matter how nice the company one might be with, however, it is never pleasant to have a rifle pointed at one's back." Meg Cabot_

Alright, so maybe it wasn't a rifle…

Actually it was a tricked out semi-automatic that was probably procured on E-Bay and Heathe Mitchell was holding it to my back while forcing me down stairs in the abandon Pipe Warehouse. _Oh goody, an abandon building where a sociopath hides their bodies_. This wasn't the first time I had had a gun pointed at me but I can honestly say you never really enjoy the feeling of the cold metal pushing against your skin. Nope, not pleasurable at all.

As we made our way down the stairs I wondered over my options:

Option A: Remain silent and hope that the senseless psycho behind me has pity and decides not to let me "join the others."

Option B: Try talking to the psycho and get out his motive and talk him out of butchering me. Note to self: if I take this option try not to use the words "psycho" or "butcher" when appealing to him.

Option C: Taser his ass and push him down the stairs and make a run for it. Another note to self: He's holding a very large gun to my back and may get off a round before I get to him. I'd really like to walk away from this without bullets in me or you know…being dead.

"You know this is entirely your fault."

_Okay, Option B it is. _

"And how would that be Heathe?"

"You didn't have to know anything. You could have stopped investigating."

"Are you serious? We met at the school newspaper. You really think I would stop trying to figure this out, even if it meant I discovered your dirty little secrets."

He shoved the gun harder into my back. Maybe being sarcastic wasn't a good tactic to use with the psycho.

"You think you know everything…"

"As a matter of fact I do. But I'm sure you know the story- let's play it out. Your creep-a-zoid of a father, a once prominent plastic surgeon, had multiple affairs with the high school cheerleading squad back in your hometown. Small town usually means big mouths, and it wasn't long before the whole town knew what "daddy dearest" was screwing- including your family. Your darling mother, who is anything but darling and passive, beat your father into submission and all the way to California. She managed to get the Sheriff's job through good ole' fashioned family money. Your dad skirks away in a second-rate plastic surgeon business and you all pretend it never happened." I pause as we reach the bottom of the stairs and for effect. If I'm going to tell "Michael Meyers" back here his motive then I am going to do it with flare, dang it! "So you, not adjusting at all to the fact that your father betrayed your family and made "ya'll" the laughing stock of town- decide if you kill a cheerleader then he won't ever look at them the same way again. No more cheerleaders, no more illegal sex and no more disgusting daddy. Am I right?"

He grunted and shoved the gun harder into my back.

So, I was right. I had only one unanswered question. And really, it was sort of bugging me. "I'll admit I don't know everything that happens in that cute little psychotic head of yours…why the jewelry?" I asked referring to the different pieces of the victims' jewelry he had left.

He smiled and suddenly the smile I thought once dreamy was literally frightening- like the smile I imagined Ted Bundy had. Ewww. "Daddy-dearest as you called him use to take my Mom's jewelry and give it to whichever pom-pom screw buddy of the month. My mother's family heirlooms left on the corner of a nightstand in a sleazy motel where he paid them like whores. But then again, that's what they were…or are…."

"Really? That's the reason you left the jewelry? That's the most trite and boring thing I have ever heard."

He used his gun to shove me to the cold hard floor of the basement of the Warehouse. Another bright idea is not to go and insult the serial killer's bizarre and bland yet twisted clues he has chosen precisely to leave behind. To each killer his own…

I turned around slowly, facing Heathe. My arms were beginning to already feel the weight of the shoving and grabbing and dragging and beating. They felt heavy and stiff and sore. My body had begun to ache and I was fairly certain in this last push I had heard something crack in the ankle region of my body. I felt warm blood drip down my lip and then down my cheek as my face had made impact with the floor. I was afraid. I might say stupid things and you know, do stupid things like go after a serial killer all by myself but I wasn't so stupid as not to be scared for my life. Heathe had without a doubt in my mind killed four girls my age and if I wasn't careful and if the hand of God didn't intervene there was also little doubt I would be number five.

Heathe kept the gun steadily aimed at me, more specifically my head as he began to ruffle through a dirty Neptune High gym bag on the floor that had almost magically appeared at his feet. He pulled from the bag a water bottle filled with something other than water, a dirty rag, and what looked like handcuffs. Just a guess but that bottle was filled with something he would shove down my throat with help of the rag and little resistance from me bound in the cuffs. I could feel in my pocket my taser. I knew that even though I was sure he could outrun me in my current state and he could shoot me- I had better odds if I was conscious than knocked out with whatever was in the bottle. As he continued his set-up and holding the gun towards my head, thoughts raced through my mind.

When your life flashes before your eyes you're supposed to see all the things that have happened, right? The good and the bad times all become a montage set to a hardcore soundtrack as you see your past life. I didn't see my past, I only saw what could have been my future that would never be. I saw Logan Echolls. I saw him as I remembered him in the cemetery; broken and open and still so strong. I saw Veronica Mars. I saw her as my hero; her eyes seeing everything I wanted to see but missed. I saw Keith. I saw my Mom and Dad and my brothers and the lives I would miss. I saw a future that I could never…_solve._ And then the adrenaline burst through me- I was a Grant and I wasn't going to give that future up so easily. Not without a fight. Heathe began to approach me with the gun in his right hand and the cuffs in his left. He didn't move the gun's aim but went towards my back and was likely going to try to cuff me from behind. As he reached back, in a swift movement that summoned most of my strength I pulled the taser from my pocket and aimed at whatever piece of his flesh I could connect with…in this case, his arm. I pushed the button with all my might not letting go till he'd screamed and fallen, dropping the cuffs at least. I pushed up and I made a bolt for the stairs and freedom. I wasn't as fast I thought was nor did I hurt him as much as I needed to because in the blink of an eye- midway up the stairs I felt his full body pull me back down. My face met every stair and I yelled in complete agony as the steel tore my cheeks, my forehead, and blackened my eyes. He pulled me back down and without the handcuffs but the leverage of a weapon forced my mouth open and with the dirty rag heaved chemicals down my throat. As they slid down and I did everything within my power not to swallow I felt as if my throat and chest had been set on fire. I prayed they had so I knew this pain would eventually end; even if it were death. I gagged and choked and my head began to feel heavy. I was losing consciousness but while I had underestimated his speed and ability he had underestimated my determination not to die. The fight or flight within me was all fight as he had laid me on my taser. I reached one last time and tased the poor shmuck in the face and heard rage in pain and throw his gun. I smiled.

_Moron._

My eyes began to drop, my chest felt as if it were ripping, and just before I blacked out I heard the shot of the gun and what I thought to be the voice of my guardian angel.

_Alex had come to save me._

To say Alex had never fired a weapon in his life was an understatement. Alex generally stayed away from pointy objects such as butcher knives too. The thought of harming another being never appealed to him in the least.

_Till now._

Till he saw January Grant's battered and barely recognizable body on the muck dirt floor of the Pipe Warehouse and Heathe slowly gathering back from the tase January had issued him, he hadn't wanted to ever hurt someone so much. In this case, Alex wanted to kill the S.O.B.

Heathe Mitchell had not only harmed the girl he knew he was in love with since the moment he met her but he had also kidnapped and murdered his cousins. In Alex's mind ethics consisted of him killing Heathe to be the good and decent thing to do.

Heathe looked around for the source of the gunshot. Someone had followed him. He had a pretty good idea who and with that knowledge grabbed the unconscious body of January Grant and placed her in front of him. His face was stinging from the tase but he was still mobile and intent on seeing this through. If he had two more bodies, he'd simply buy a bigger freezer. Anything to stop the incessant and ridiculous cheering and whoring of the cheerleaders. From the shadows of the Warehouse, Alex Guan moved with the gun directly pointed at Heathe. Heathe leered at Alex. "You're not going to shoot me and her. I know you man, you like her. You want her alive then you're letting me go."

Alex's eye lit with rage and fury and even managed to make Heathe flinch in surprise. "Don't kid yourself. I don't want to see January dead but over my cold dead body will you get away."

"That can be arranged, just ask your cousins."

That was it. Alex fired another shot that barely missed Heathe's ear and ran almost through January's hair. Heathe was unnerved as he headed towards the stairs and up them, the gun never moving. Alex followed closely behind.

"You're going to pay for this. Everyone knows it's you."

"The only people that know are you and "Sleeping Beauty" here. Everyone else will believe it's my dad. It's all set-up. Poor fool couldn't have what he wanted anymore so he took it anyway. No one will ever believe someone like me is capable of this."

"Whatever." Alex grumbled. In truth, Heathe was mistaken because if he ever thought about where he lived he would know teenage serial killers were a dime a dozen in Neptune. Neptune wrote a whole new chapter on teen violence and it would have no problem believing once again it had produced another adolescent with serious daddy issues and love for death, especially others' deaths.

They made it to the door and Heathe began to open it, never really letting his eyes leave Alex or the gun and that was Heathe's mistake because on the other side stood Logan Echolls and Veronica Mars. Heathe began to turn towards his freedom and found the last person he should ever want to see standing there while he held a tortured January…

Logan took one fail swoop and grabbed Heathe and pulled him outside and began to beat him senseless. January's body began to fall and Alex dropped the gun and caught her, as they both slammed against the side as not to fall all the way back down. Alex felt the crack of his ribs and the weight of her body and heard her slow gasps. He pulled her up and outside to the dark brisk night and into the dim lights of the back alley city. He held onto her and took in that she was alive and slumped against the side wall outside and watched as Heathe met his match in the arena of pure rage and hate.

"**NO ONE LAYS A HAND ON MY DAUGHTER! NO ONE!**" Logan continued to hit Heathe full force with his fists. He kicked Heathe and picked the beaten boy up by the collar. Veronica ran and pulled with all her force Logan off of Heathe, who was lying beaten on the ground. Her arms surrounded him, holding him back and then just holding him.

Logan pulled away quickly, broke free of Veronica's grasp and ran to January's side, where Alex was holding her in his lap. His ribs were aching from the force of supporting both their bodies on the stare and his eyes were blood shot and red; full of fear, hurt and that ever unmistakable rage that both Logan and Veronica had known well that still was within him.

January's face was almost unrecognizable. Cut and bruised, her eyes were hidden in the matted blood and darkness. She was breathing heavily as the chemical Heathe had used to stop her from talking was scarring her throat. Pain shot thru her entire body each time she gasped for air.

Logan met eyes with Alex and Alex gently gave January to him. Logan leaned against the concrete side and held his baby girl. Veronica was quick to follow- taking off her short jacket and ripping into shreds. She placed strips in her mouth and carefully started to clean January's wounded face and body. She took her daughter's hand and held it tightly- she felt a return squeeze-small but oh so big. Tears poured from Veronica's eyes. Logan gently whispered to January that everything would be okay-over and over again.

In the distance sirens pierced the night and the lights bore down over the ghastly scene. Heathe lay on the concrete- tased and beaten- with little life in him. Alex was standing against the steal door that led to the bodies of four young girls, dead and abused, rotting away in the cold freezer in the muck of the abandon factory. Logan continued to hold January and Veronica would not let go of her hand.

Alex remembered very few things in what happened next. He remembered Keith Mars arriving behind the Sheriff. Sheriff Mitchell being pulled away from the scene by Deputy Ankersen. The ambulance arriving. Judge and Mrs. Grant running to their daughter and slowly pulling her away from Logan and Veronica. The medics placing January in the ambulance. Cops everywhere asking him questions. Keith pulling him away and putting him in a car. Eli driving him home.

The last image Alex remembered, really remembered before being pulled away, was the image of Logan Echolls and Veronica Mars leaning still against the concrete wall- now holding each other-watching their daughter disappear from their grasp once more.

* * *

**Grant House**

**January's Bedroom**

"You're awake?"

"I have been for awhile."

"How long have you known?"

"Since I was thirteen; my blood type was O- and you and Mom and Fritz and Brock are Type A."

"Why didn't you ask?"

"I was afraid to. I love you. I didn't want to hurt you or Mom. I thought if I asked you'd think I was looking for something better; something other than you."

"You _really_ felt that way?"

"I still do. I don't…I don't…I don't want to lose you."

"Oh, my beautiful girl…we found you first- how could you think you would ever lose us? I remember the day they placed you in my arms. I didn't think I could love anyone as much as I loved you after that moment. Here you were- this small gorgeous little baby girl and you were all mine. I thought- I hoped that would be it. You were mine and I would never have to share you."

"Dad…"

"January, I haven't always been there. I'm old enough to know where I've made my mistakes. You have grown-up into this beautiful courageous young woman, who has spirit and is full of life. I missed that and I can't get those days back. It ends here. No more missing moments; no more letting you grow-up without me; and no more secrets; okay?"

"Okay, Daddy."

"January whatever happens and whatever you decide you will always be my baby girl. And as my baby girl if you ever go chase a murderer again I will ground you for life. Got that?"

"I think so."

"I love you the ends of the earth."

"I love you further."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Grant House**

I felt a hand gently brush my hair out of my face. I opened my still swollen eyes slowly to the dim room. My mom was sitting on the edge of the bed- the edges of her face, in spite of everything, lined with worry. Her voice was soft and tender. "Honey, Alex is here to see you. Do you feel like company? Maybe you could even take a walk down on the beach… you really do need to get up."

I looked around my room. I hadn't moved from bed in three days. I hadn't talked to anyone except my parents and Fritz and Brock- who brought me their game system in case I felt like playing because it always made them feel better. I had shut myself off. My secret was out. But I wanted to see Alex, I needed to see Alex. "Will you help me?" I asked my mom, my voice still scratched and hushed from the chemicals.

My mom's voice broke. "Of course, sweetie. I'll help you with whatever you need." She helped me up and washed my face. She combed my hair. She went to my dresser and picked out a comfortable t-shirt and pair of faded black shorts. She helped me up and dressed me. She pulled my hair back. I then consented to let her put a little make-up on me to cover the bruises and swelling. She then went to a sack; one of the many sacks full of "get well" and "thank-you" gifts, and pulled out a pair of large expensive sunglasses. She placed flip flops on my feet.

Before she began helping me move downstairs to meet Alex, I pulled my mom into an embrace. I hugged her tighter than I ever had before- just like I had Dad _that_ night. Years of wondering why I didn't belong had clouded me from seeing how much I was loved. My mom returned the embrace carefully, kissed my forehead, and whispered a small quiet, "I love you, too." Then she helped me downstairs to greet my visitor.

Alex was standing in the doorway. He looked different. He was wearing a dark blue collared shirt, nice khaki pants, and his hair was stylish and combed. His demeanor was a mixture of sadness and joy. It was then I realized- funerals. He had gone to his cousins' funeral today. I stopped and caught my breath at the thought of it. Two young girls who had a life ahead of them were dead and the only justice the family had was knowing the kid who did it was being sentenced as an adult to life without parole. He didn't die. He would go on living. Kami and Kara would not. My Mom gave a worried look before I nodded and continued.

"Hi."

"Hi."

I tried to smile. My face was still sore. Alex smiled for me. He looked to my Mom, "Hello Mrs. Grant. I just needed to talk to January- if that's okay."

"That's fine. Why don't you two walk down along the beach? Just be sure it's not too long… she's still recovering."

I sighed. I was standing right there. I am sure Alex was full aware that I wasn't in supergirl condition. "We won't be long Mom." I walked over to Alex, took his arm and we made our way to the shore.

We didn't say anything till the sand hit our feet. I removed my flip flops

"How's Isa?"

Alex and I didn't look at each other- we just faced the horizon and long path of sand.

"She's in shambles, Jan. Her best friend murdered her neighbors and tried to murder you. She refused to come to the funerals and she's all but locked herself in her room. I tried to get her to come with me today but she wouldn't."

"She feels guilty." More of a statement than question.

"Yeah, she feels guilty that she couldn't see what no one else could."

"Even me…" My voice trailed.

"Jan…you saw it. Eventually you figured it out."

"So _did_ you, my hero." I paused and stopped us both and looked at him for the first time. His eyes were darker, he was taller, he'd grown-up in all of this- hadn't he? I tried to sound glib, "I think that's what I am going to call you from now on- _my hero._"

He smiled sweetly at the gesture and turned his gaze to the ocean and I followed it. "Everyone's talking about you…"

"Surprise. Surprise."

"January Grant the illegitimate love child of Logan Echolls and Veronica Mars… You are the story at school."

"Surprise. Surprise."

"Then there's the fact you caught a…murderer. You've impressed a lot of people. I think I even heard Hannah Kane say something remotely nice about you. Meredith and Michael Casablancas asked how you were doing, too."

"Now I am surprised." I laughed at the irony. I moved to Neptune thinking I had removed myself from ever really finding my birth parents when in reality, I moved straight into them. "How did I miss that Alex? Why didn't I see who I was? Who they were?"

He didn't say anything right away. I could tell he was thinking. He turned his head towards mine and met me eye to eye. "January, it doesn't matter. You are who you have always been. Being the daughter of a famous photographer and TV producer for two weeks doesn't change the fact you were the daughter of a judge and housewife for 16 years before that. You are January Grant and you've lived this _amazing_ life- with or without them. You would still live that life- with or without them. The question is: which is it going to be? It's all up to you."

"I don't want it to be. I thought I did but I don't… I just want to…"

"Be yourself."

"Yeah. Be me and I'm not sure if I'm ready for them… does that make me a horrible person? After all these years of wondering and wishing and waiting and I got it but I'm not sure I want it…I'm selfish."

"Jan, the last thing in this world you are- is selfish. You willingly put your life in danger to save others. You took chances to bring people back together again- whether you knew or not. You are not selfish. You are beautiful and strong and brave and…"

Before Alex could finish, I had my arms around his neck and my mouth covering his. I tasted his lips and he returned the kiss. I was aching from reaching him but it _was worth it_. He had saved my life and been my friend and had intrigued me, too. He was another mystery that I wanted to solve. He wrapped his arms around my waist and gently lifted me up, easing my pain. Our kiss went deeper as our bodies closed in on each other.

I don't know how long we stood in the sunset and "made out" but each moment was thrilling and exciting. Eventually, I slowly pulled away from him and sank into his arms- which he enveloped me with. This was peace. This was healing. He gently kissed the top of my head and whispered, "You are my _hero_." He then took me by the arm and led me back, his hand never leaving mine.

I was good at losing things, but as my Dad had said often when I was younger, I was really good at finding them too.


	19. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Veronica Mars, _Relient K's _Be My Escape_, or any of the previous quotes. I don't even own a fish anymore. I do however own a lifetime supply of Starbucks Frappacinos, apparently.**

**A/N: Wow. I'm amazed at all the reviews and the feedback for this story. The fact I have over a 100 reviews is like some type of mile marker in my life...really. This is it... well, almost. I have an Epilogue that is ready but won't get posted till this weekend because of my life. The Epilogue as many have wanted is full of LoVe and the best line in history. Noted in this chapter, I am a complete sap. I like happy endings- so sue me. I like my strings tied, unless I plan for a sequel. No loose ends. Be warned there is sweetness abundant in this chapter. Brush well, afterwards. **

**Enjoy and remain sweet,**

**Ella**

* * *

**Grant House**

**Foyer/Living Room**

"_And the beauty of grace is that it makes life unfair. And I've been housing all these doubts and insecurities and I've been locked inside that house- all the while you hold the key and I've been dying to get out but it might be death of me. And even though there's no way of knowing where to go, Promise I'm going. Because I've got to get out of here. I'm stuck inside this rut I fell into by mistake. I'm begging you to be my escape."_

-**Be My Escape** by Relient K

"Judge Grant. Mrs. Grant." Keith Mars replied cordially- extending his hand to the frazzled couple. He knew their looks. He'd been in their shoes more than once. Of all things January had inherited from parents- their ability to find trouble was one of them.

Judge Grant's handshake was firm and deliberate. Mrs. Grant's was soft and frightened. They had no idea what to do. Raising your daughter is one thing; letting your daughter at 16 years old meet her birth parents- no handbook on that. But there was reality facing them in the form of Keith Mars- not only their daughter's lifelong hero but her maternal grandfather as well… how do you work that out? How do you stop your daughter from meeting people she'd already met? You don't, do you?

Keith spoke again. "Listen, I want to assure you I _know_ the hell you've been through the past few weeks. I _know _but I promise you everything is in your court. The balls, the rackets, heck- the tennis pro too." He glibbed, trying to lighten the mood. "If you want to stop this at any time, please just say it."

The Judge looked to his wife and then to Mr. Mars. "Keith, my wife and I both agreed this wasn't our decision to make but January's. She was born 30, I think. We have full faith in her ability to make a rational decision…the past several weeks exempted. She knows what she's doing- she has for a very long time. We…we trust that you and your family only have her best interest at heart, too. I think we all want the best for her. If that's the only thing we have in common, then it will be enough."

Keith gave the man credit. For a father of 16 year old daughter, he was pretty wise and fair. Then you had to be when you raised daughters like they had. There was little room for anything else.

January stepped down the stairs with the aide of a cane. She hadn't wanted to use it and she didn't really need it but her legs had been really sore once she came off the pain medicine. Her doctor assured her that the pain would subside in several days; once the swelling had gone down and the bruising healed. She gave a moment's pause to look at the scene in the living room. Her parents' and Keith…her grandfather was standing talking to them. Was she really ready for this? She had agreed to let Keith take her out for the day and eventually meet with…with…her "other" family. She gulped and continued down the stairs to the foyer.

"I'm ready." She replied with false bravado.

Her mother stepped to the closet and returned with January's bag. "Here Sweetie…you might need this. It has your meds, in case you need them. I packed a snack, too because you can't take this medicine on an empty stomach. Your cell phone and your PDA are also in there. Oh, your wallet too." She handed January her bag with a similar fake bravery. Without any urging or begrudging, January gave her Mom a hug and kiss on the cheek.

"I'll be fine Mom." She tried to reassure them both.

January's Dad walked up to her and wrapped his arms tightly around her. This _was_ his little girl. He didn't want her to forget that- ever. She returned the spontaneous hug and gave him a kiss on the cheek too. "Love you." She whispered and with that Keith Mars escorted her out of the house and what might be out of their lives.

**------------------------------------------------**

**Keith's Car**

I've ridden with Keith Mars before. This isn't a first. Doubtful it will be the last time, too. I just have no clue what to say to him. When he was my hero, I could think of a million questions to ask him but in this moment, I was stumped. Lucky for me, Keith felt very chatty.

"Okay January, let's get something absolutely clear right off the bat… if you ever pull a stunt like you did last time not only will you have to worry about immediate death but if you live you will worry about me. Are we clear?!? Going off with a guy you barely know and have a good idea to be a serial killer is a STUPID STUPID move and totally inexcusable! If you want to be a big time crime reporter and investigator then you better be smart enough to call in _real_ back-up or stay away completely. YOU COULD HAVE DIED?!? You are so lucky… Whether you are working for me or not, you are my granddaughter and you will NEVER do something like that again! Are we clear?"

A smile spread across my lips. I mean I know Keith was being a 100 serious but I couldn't help it. The last thing I expected was a "grand-parental" tirade. It was what I needed though- I knew tirades. I was use to them. We _**are good friends**_.

Keith gave me a stare down and I let the smile vanish, if only on the outside. My face became solemn and I merely retorted, "Yes sir." I threw my gaze back to the front. I caught a quick glance of Keith as smile spread across his face as he returned his gaze to the road.

"Can I ask where we are going?"

He hedged. Uh oh, why was he hedging? Hedging wasn't good.

"Duncan Kane's house."

"You're kidding?"

"No. It was the only house where we could get total privacy and we all thought that would be best under these circumstances."

"Oh."

"If you want, we'll change it though." He answered quickly.

"Um…no, that's okay. Just bad memories at the house. Well, I mean memories of me making a complete ass of myself in front of Duncan and Cindy and…" I couldn't say it. In another life I would have said Logan Echolls. In this one, the guy I_ reamed at that house_ was my biological father and guy who rescued me and Alex.

"I get it." Keith interrupted, not making me finish to my relief.

"Duncan's house is fine. New beginning, eh?"

"Listen January, before we get there I have something else I need to say to you. A lot of what has happened was my fault. I was a concerned father who'd seen his only child get into too much trouble and get hurt too often. I couldn't… I just couldn't see her go through that again. I love Veronica and I wanted her to get the life she deserved. I love you too and I guess, I thought the life you deserved would be with two parents. I saw what my divorce did to my daughter; I didn't want that for you or anyone. The grave, the whole total anonymity thing, was my ideal. I wanted them to pay and I just wanted to believe I didn't just push my daughter into what I had pushed her into."

"No offense Keith but from everything I know of Veronica; she doesn't exactly get pushed around."

"No she doesn't unless she's at her lowest and she's weak. She was and I knew it."

We continued the drive. We obviously weren't going to Duncan's first. I sat in silence for a few moments. "Keith, I don't blame you. I don't blame Veronica or Logan. I don't blame anybody. I have a good life. I have a set of wonderful parents. I have two slightly-sadistic yet at times charming little brothers. I have this huge family that loves me. But most importantly, I know who I am. I didn't think I did. I thought if I only knew who my _real_ parents were I would but I know now and that hasn't changed anything about me. I'm still the same girl who walked into your office months ago and only time and experiences will change that…you know?"

"Yeah kid, I know." He gently patted my hand and drove forward, no longer avoiding what we couldn't avoid. "I know."

* * *

**Kane House**

I feel like a vet. Not the animal kind; the war fighting kind- like maybe I went through Nam or something… Standing in front of this house and I am struck with Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome or maybe just a generalized panic attack. I am locked in fear. I have faced a sociopath serial killer and yet little brave girl is scared of a big nasty mansion.

What can I say?

What am I going to say?

Oh God, are they going to expect me to give some type of speech? Is this like winning the Academy Award? Who do I thank? What if I forget someone?

_Oh God._

Keith takes my icy cold hand, leaving my other free to hold my cane. He gently pulls me forward…I limp along. He doesn't bother with the bell or knocking but walks right in.

_Help._

We move past the foyer into the lavish living room where I brilliantly eviscerated Logan Echolls…my biological father. Oh crap- the whole frak'n town of Neptune is here. Okay, slight exaggeration. It's just Eli, Wallace, Wallace's wife Jackie, Duncan, Nichole, Cindy, Dick, Logan and Veronica…oh, and Keith. I mean just _them._ They glance at each other- side to side and then to me.

Do they want me to talk?!? Seriously?!?

Keith gives a little cough and let go of my hand and helps me to a large overstuffed chair- front and center. Isn't this how interrogations take place? All that's missing is the bright light… Keith turns and smiles at me and sits next to Veronica on the couch. He begins speaking; _thank God._ "First off, what you need to know is that right now in this room, no matter what else happens, you will not find more people who have loved you for so long and will continue to love you. No matter what is said today. We mean it."

There are several nods of agreement. Wallace is the next to speak. He has a hand placed on his wife's shoulder lovingly. He's the patient one- the friendly one- and still the coolest VP I know. "January, I want to say this… you are an amazing girl. You have tackled a lot in this short time and as your Vice Principal and what I hope to-be-unofficial-uncle, I am proud of you. However, if you ever go after a serial killer again I will not be above suspending your white ass till forever. I hope we're clear on that matter. And just to set the record straight, I hide the key to all the files under my stapler and the password to my computer is…"

"Behind the picture of your wife…" I finish for him, sheepishly. _C'mon I'm not a saint_, I think as I shrug.

He smirks. "Just as long as I get a thank-you every now and then and you don't tape a picture of me in your locker…we're cool J."

I smirk back. I have no clue what he's talking about but the fact that the VP is okay with me snooping in his office-pretty much rocks, right?

"You _will not_ mess with a case that might get you murdered or otherwise hurt. _You will not_ scare the crap out of your family again. _You will not_ make any more references to my former delinquent days, no matter how funny you find it. _You will_ spend at least one day every week in that office helping me out on any case you choose. Got it, Grant?" Weevil spoke with an air of toughness and tenderness I had come to expect from the big scary-lovable guy.

"Got it."

"I am going to get you the best and fastest computer possible and show you how to hack into a mainframe and how to tell who hacked into yours but they won't be able to because I will have firewalled the crap out of it because I totally rock when it comes to security on the systems and if you're really nice I will show you embarrassing videos of your mother during high school and college and then I'll let you mock her mercilessly." Cindy rambled all in good nature and extreme excitement. "Oh and from now on- it's Mac."

I had no idea what to make of the rambling other than I was getting a new computer that would be way cool and I would get to laugh at old videos of my bio-parents during high school and college. Yeah, and I could call Mrs. Casablancas Mac.

Mac elbowed Dick pretty hard, who had been staring into space. I'm thinking his thought process in all of this is far more limited. He rubbed his shoulder and realized it was his cue to talk. "OH…yeah, I don't care if you skip my class anymore. Like anyone really needs health or gym…"

"Uh…thanks?" I still would've skipped gym even if he hadn't said it was okay. Just going to be a little easier in the future, I supposed.

Duncan shook his head at Dick and stifled a shared laugh with Logan and Veronica. He sat a little straighter when speaking to me. I could only imagine what he would have to say. "January I have to say we didn't get off on the right foot- hell, we both have two left feet in this." I laughed softly at his laid back approach. "But it doesn't matter anymore. I owe more than words to Logan, as he has been my best friend, even if his dad killed my sister and he stole my ex-girlfriend."

Who knew Duncan Kane could be this funny or light-hearted or glib even?

"I owe more than my life to Veronica. She saved me, my daughter, and found the truth about my sister Lilly. She is a good person. Both your parents are good people who are loyal, sacrificial, and love to the extreme. This is what I can offer you… I can offer to be there for you like they were for me when it mattered. You need it- ask. May not seem like a whole lot but it will…in time."

I pushed tears back at Duncan's words. I gave a moment to think about his sister. The very nature of loss was ingrained in him and I think he wasn't going to go overboard or be fake. He was offering me a chance that he never offered Logan or Veronica and that is the _world_ to someone like Duncan Kane.

"I…I…" Logan began but was choking back all the emotion I had discovered within him over the past few days. I had witnessed the guy Duncan was talking about in the cemetery that day. Duncan wasn't mincing words when he said Logan loved to the extreme. It was all he knew when he hadn't had love at all as a kid. "I love you. I don't think you'll believe me. I don't think you'll understand. You are _our_ kid. Love never comes without complications. But I love you because you are who you are and nothing less. You are my daughter and when you want to be that, when you want to take on that role, I. Will. Be. Here. I am not going to leave you again. I love you January."

There was no denying I was Logan Echolls daughter. Our first encounter had proved thus and every encounter since then only solidified the logical conclusion. I just wasn't sure if I was ready to love back. He knew that though and that terrifies me. He knows me so well when I have no idea who I am. I turn my eyes down because looking at him and Veronica is too hard for _this_ coward.

"Your name was going to be Maggie. I loved the name Maggie. I also loved kittens but…" Veronica smiled broadly through tears streaming down her face. "I am not going to ask for your forgiveness. You are January Grant because you have had two wonderful parents and a supportive family and a good life- except for the whole trouble following you wherever you go… That's genetic. You don't need me to say I'm sorry. I love you. You are a beautiful young woman who is going to go places- who will save the world. And I will be standing right here, proud and scared, just like my Dad did. That's what parents do- they stay. They don't leave. January Grant, you are amazing and alive and will have more people to love you harder than you have ever been loved before."

Damn tears. I am full out sobbing. I mean dry-heave-uncontrollable-Nora-Ephron-Chick-Flick sobbing. Oh, what would Meg Ryan do?

I clutch my cane and I take it slowly and walk towards Veronica and Logan. They stand immediately as I make my way to them and for the second time, this time a little more lucid, I collapse in their arms. I hug them fiercely. This hug comes with no promises or guarantees just the feeling that I'm loved and loved so far and wide it overwhelms everything I am. I feel their arms tighten around me, holding me up and their gentle kisses on my head and face. There is complete silence in the room.

Eventually, I pull away and lean on my cane and use my free hand to wipe the waterworks from my face. I gather myself. It's my _turn_- no more putting off what I need to say.

"I have spent my lifetime thinking what I had in life wasn't enough. I was wrong and it almost cost me my life- which I swear will never happen again- at least not this month…" I glib, I always glib when I'm nervous. "I want to be able to tell you all that I am fine with this new facet of my life but I can't…not yet. I am going to need a little time. This is a lot for me…for my Mom and Dad and I imagine for all of you. Just give me my time and my chance to do this on my own and I'm sure it'll be alright."

"Alright is just fine." Keith replied before wrapping a hug around me of his own.


	20. Epilogue

**Disclaimer: All of this was the genuinely the incedible and immense talent of Rob Thomas and such...I remain in grateful awe.**

**A/N: It's over. It's done and I am glad and honestly, sad. I started this story when I moved here---where I am and the fact this story came here with me and it's over...well, I am a little misty ya'll. I love the characters and finding their story has been a challenge and joy and it's done. Thank-you, in all the true sappiness, I have within me for reading, reviewing, liking and disliking, and just following this with me. I'm honored. Now, with all that said, enjoy the end. **

**Special A/N: Yes, I "covered" a line. But in my mind, the line is the most quotable spectacular line in TV history and well, it's been written since I started the story. _Yes I knew_ I was always going to end with this line. **

**Enjoy and thanks again,**

**Ella

* * *

****EPILOGUE**

_I did it partly because it was worth it, but mostly because I shall never have to do it again. __Mark Twain _

"Are those _My Little Ponies?_"

"What? We missed a few years…"

"Logan, you don't think you might be taking this a little too far…"

"No."

"Where's Veronica?"

"She had one last gift to pick up. Mac took her and is bringing her here."

"One last gift?!?"

"Yeah."

"You already got her a sailboat."

"I like to sail. She lives near the ocean. I had a sailboat at her age. You _had_ a sailboat at her age."

"I mean, isn't this a bit…much? You got her a sailboat, a diamond tiara with a matching necklace, and a credit card. This does not include the presents Veronica has for her, either. You don't think you'll overwhelm her? You're not moving a little fast, are you?"

"Fast is my middle name. Well, not really but you know me."

"_Yeah._" Fast had been Logan's mantra since he returned to Neptune. He was fast to assume January was his daughter. Fast to forgive Veronica for **EVERYTHING**. Fast to marry Veronica after they had only been dating for three months. Fast to move into January's life. Logan wasn't wasting his time and Duncan, as his best friend, could only hope things weren't moving too fast and he would crash.

"Don't worry "Doughnut," it'll be alright. So what did you get her?"

Duncan gave a slight smile as he pulled out his beautifully bagged gift- compliments of Nichole's expert gifting skills. "A scrapbook. We did the same thing for Hannah. This book is full of pictures of you and Veronica, Lilly, me, and everything from high school and college I could get together. Hannah calls her book, "A Frightening Look Into Mom and Dad's Past." This is January's. Nichole has been working all week on it."

"You suck."

"_What? Why?_"

"That gift is not only frightening, as you say, but like completely sentimental and perfect. How much do you want for it?"

"Are you serious?!?"

"Yes. How much?"

"No way, Logan. Nichole would kill me."

"Don't care. How much?"

"Logan, stop worrying. She'll love all your gifts and this party." Duncan stood and placed a friendly jab in Logan's shoulder. "She loves you. She loves Veronica. You're a good dad. Enjoy today, okay?"

Logan gave Duncan worried smile. How do you buy back sixteen years? How do you buy back everything you missed and all the times you weren't there? How are you ever enough to the people who raised your own kid? All the old worries had surfaced. Maybe today wasn't a good idea but Ronnie had so badly wanted this… this party. She wanted one birthday, one day to share with their daughter that was their own. Logan had come up with celebrating her _actual_ birthday. She loved it. Once they got January's "other" parents to agree to it; they had approached Jan. She was a little hesitant at first but had eventually agreed.

Here they were on October 19th, having a birthday party for their daughter at the Kane household. Invitations were sent to the Casablacas, the Fennells, the Navarros, and the Grants. Judge Grant and his wife had declined. They had been understanding to a fault of Logan and Veronica being involved in January's life but they were not anxious to participate in it, either.

"A little help here…" Veronica Mars replied as she entered the Kane house; arms full of party favors, balloons, and one very large wrapped gift.

Logan stood-up to help his wife. He took the gift and placed it among the growing stack.

Veronica sighed as she rid herself of the other items. "Whose idea was this again?"

"Yours, all yours." Logan said smugly, as he kissed her hello.

"Thanks…_darling._"

"You're welcome."

"Hey Duncan." Veronica said, finally greeting the other presence in the room.

"Hello Veronica. Where's Mac?"

"She went home to meet Dick and the kids. She'll be here soon. Something about a new system she planned on uploading to January's computer…" Veronica laughed, as she shook her head. Mac had taken the duty of reinstated B.F.F. and doting "aunt" very seriously and a little zealously too. It was classic Mac and classic cute.

Duncan looked at the new largely wrapped gift added to the pile. "Oh _please _tell me you didn't buy her a house or castle…"

"No, I bought her a Barbie Dream House. I mean, it's all about the Dream House…right?" Veronica mused. "_Chill down_, Duncan. It's a photograph. One to replace the one you bought from her…" She reminded him, with a raised eyebrow.

Duncan Kane in an extraordinary move bought _Shot of Three_ from January for a cool million. January had not wanted to sell the photograph but her parents "strongly" suggested she take the deal. Perhaps there was the threatening of her life or an expensive boarding school in Sweden but she took the deal and the money went into her trust fund. Duncan took the photograph and burned it after he and Logan had used his car to run over it, very _ceremoniously_. Now, there was a very large whole on her wall, January constantly lamented to Veronica. Veronica may have only been a "mother" for a short while but she knew what her daughter was hinting.

"Take a look, if you need to…_Doughnut_." Veronica motioned Duncan to the large wrapped gift.

Duncan slowly and skillfully removed the wrapping. What was before him took the breath out of him and Veronica and Logan moved from the embrace to Duncan's sides as he looked upon the classic V. Mars photograph. It was done in her usual style but it wasn't her who took the photograph. It couldn't have been because she was in it. It was at the cemetery. It was a misty morning and Logan and Veronica had gone with January to Lynn's memorial. The three of them stood in almost perfectly mimicked poses of what the original had been. But this one, this one was different because the three of them looked…peaceful.

"Who took this Veronica?" Duncan asked, more curious than ever.

"_Your daughter_."

"What?!?"

"She was there visiting her mom's grave with Alex and Lizzie. She had her digital camera with her and she snagged the shot."

"You're kidding?"

"No. She's got talent."

"Yes, she does. Excuse me…" Duncan spoke quietly before excusing himself to obviously call his daughter. Hannah had been adamant and had gone east for school. Now at Duke, million of miles away, Duncan missed his little girl.

Alone at last, Veronica and Logan fell onto the couch and into each other's arms. What had Logan called their love story---epic? It was _epic_ and it was fast and it was a ride but one that both agreed it was time for them to ride.

When Veronica had informed her dad she and Logan were going to marry he had put a hole in the wall with his fist. Fortunately, Inga had a good contractor who was very good at patching holes in walls. _Oh those holes could be only used for so much…_

Her dad's reaction was pretty much par on course for everyone else's reaction. Eli had threatened to shoot them both and make the end much quicker and happier because as he saw it this was only gonna lead to dead bodies. _Very optimistic_, Veronica had quipped. Wallace stopped speaking to her for an entire week. He was a stone wall and didn't back down from thinking Veronica was jumping into disaster- head first. Mac hired a lawyer and began drawing up a thousand different pre-nups. Dick had laughed for two hours. Duncan punched Logan and then told Veronica to leave before he broke his promise to never hit a girl.

Then there was January. Her reaction to the both of them was baffling and well, _par on course for January_. She went out that day they sat down and told her and bought them a blender. She had called and insisted they meet her at _Cups of Stone_ and she presented them with their gift. A white generic $35 blender probably purchased at the local superstore. She looked at them very seriously and said, "**This is as supportive as I get. I figure the blender says it all. It's not personal. It's not intimidating. It's not necessarily optimistic but then I only bought one. So, if you guys split, then you have to decide who gets Blendie, and we all know how custody battles go around here. Okay, that's it."**

In hindsight, it was the most positive response they received…_from anyone_. The blender or Blendie as the "family" had named him remained on their counter unused but with a special place of honor. Veronica and Logan had been almost afraid to use the gift from their daughter as if it might jinx something. Blendie was a reminder to them that they had to make this work- for the blender and for her. It wasn't as if loving each other was hard. They had that down- they had that since high school. It was the staying part when both of them were pre-genetically predetermined to split when things were frightening or just wrong. Yet here they were, months later, not far from a year and still there or beside one another.

Logan pulled Veronica tighter as they sat there and waited for the inevitable. This week had been a stressful one in the Mars-Echoll household. This day and having it go off without a hitch had been taxing but now, it would be worth it. It _had _to be. She had given them so much and all they wanted was a chance to give something back to her. For instance, this past fall, January had shocked everyone on the first day of school by announcing she had gone and legally changed her name to Mars-Grant. Jaws had dropped and Wallace fell out of his V.P. chair in his office; almost knocking himself out on the edge of his desk. She offered no explanation or reason; she had just done it as if it had been the most logical move in the world.

_She really was their daughter. _

Without looking up, but resting her head on Logan's shoulder, Veronica spoke. "I love you Logan." It wasn't the declaration of a lifetime but then maybe it was.

"I love you too, Veronica." He replied, without fault or waver.

"And this is the right thing?" She asked.

"Veronica since when has anything we have ever done been the right thing?" He replied, his voice light and laughing.

Veronica laughed a little too but became silent. He squeezed her tighter and placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

"Veronica it may never be right but it's who we are and that's what works…what's always worked."

"I know. I know." And she finally rest in his arms till their daughter arrived.

* * *

**OUTSIDE the Kane House- A few hours and five, no ten, no fifteen minutes later…**

"Do I have to go in?"

"Yes."

"Do I _really_ have to go in?"

"Yes."

"Five more minutes."

"You said that five minutes ago."

"I know. Just another five."

"January…"

"Alexander…"

"This is your party."

"And I'll hide if I want to."

"Hide from what? It's been a year. You've spent time with them. You've gotten to know them. You love them and they love you. What's with the fear?"

"It's been a year Alex. It's been one year of ups and downs and twists and turns…and do you know how many times _they've been to jail_?"

"January, you work for Keith. You baby-sit for Wallace. You even hang out with Scott, Michael and Meredith- which still frightens both Isa and I. They're a part of your life as much as you are a part of theirs. They want one day to celebrate with you. Just one day…"

"One day that took almost seventeen years… I'm just scared that this is it. And you and Isa could come and eat with us anytime…"

"I love you."

"Ditto."

"Alright out of the car and inside Mars-Grant…"

"I'm going."

I knew I had to and that I had no reason to be scared or worried. I am a strong, a little less-independent, slightly wiser, totally-love-stricken, sarcastic, crime-fighting-ace-reporting girl. I am the daughter to the fairest of judges and kindest of mothers. I am the daughter to a couple who have an epic love story beyond even me. I am January Mars.

And you know what they say about January Mars…

_She's a Marshmellow._


End file.
